


Ambivalence

by Odile_x



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark Magic, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, flawed grey characters, nosy muggle neighbors, slight reference to PTSD, slow burn(ish?), strict wizarding world rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 05:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odile_x/pseuds/Odile_x
Summary: After Wizarding World II, Hermione navigates both the wizarding and muggle world on her own; however, it's not as easy as she originally thought. After a disastrous mistake (or several), Hermione finds herself entangled in affairs which are morally dubious and possibly illegal.





	1. Alone

 

*This chapter has been edited since I first posted it. 

* * *

 

**1999**

It had stopped raining only an hour before there was a knock at the door. Hermione was crouched on the floor sorting through her parents' papers. Her tea had cooled, and her limbs were stiff. She made no indication of moving off the floor to chat with the unwelcome visitor.

_Knock knock knock!_

Seeing no alternative, Hermione reluctantly walked to the window. The unwelcome visitor was none other than her parents' nosy neighbor, Mrs. Madge. The woman stood outside tapping her foot impatiently. Mrs. Madge made it her business to know everything that happened to her neighbors. It was also her business to share that delicate, personal information with her weekly garden club.

Plastering a smile on her face, Hermione answered the door. "Mrs. Madge, how are you?"

"Hermione Jane, I knew a Granger was home. You have got to become faster at answering the door. What if it was an emergency? I could have been bleeding on your doorstep for five minutes before you answered the door!" The nosy neighbor rattled off without taking a single breath.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Madge, but since it's not an emergency, what's going on?" Hermione did not even attempt to disguise the irritation she felt. Mrs. Madge, however, ignored the tone and continued on squawking with her assault of questions.

"Well, dear, I was just wondering how your parents are doing. Especially your dad's surgery. I can't believe they decided to take an extended trip right before a heart transplant, and to Australia of all places!" Hermione felt the blood drain from her face.

"Wait, wait, what—"

"I mean, really! I don't know what they were thinking. They couldn't have been thinking too clearly. Especially when Evelyn told me— Oh! You know Evelyn, don't you? She told me all about it. She joined the prayer guild at church, and that little dear is so well informed. We were all so worried when she said that one of the requests was to pray for your dad to receive a heart donor. I still remember when the club found out." Mrs. Madge shut her eyes for a moment as if she were reliving the experience, but that did not stop her from speaking. "I remember when Dianne informed the club that surgery date had been set, it was a great relief. Dianne works as Dr. Johnson assistant now. Did you know? " Mrs. Madge eyed Hermione curiously as she tapped her foot waiting for a response. "Well," she prompted.

There was an awkward silence. For a moment, Hermione's tongue felt as if it were glued to mouth. Saying the truth made it a reality.  "Uh, Mrs. Madge, my parents— While they were on their trip, they died— in a car accident."  _Don't cry. Don't cry in front of your nosy neighbor, she screamed internally as her eyes threatened to release the tears._

For once, the neighborhood gossip seemed at a loss for words. She opened her mouth to speak, and promptly shut it. Hermione used this lapse of silence to escape. "I know— I'm still dealing. If you'll excuse me, I'll just finish..." Her lame exit wasn't criticized by Mrs. Madge. The woman just stood there and nodded. Once the door was shut, Hermione didn't bother to check if her neighbor had left. Tears splashed across her cheeks as she thought of the sad truth. 

Her parents had died, but quite a few details had been missing from the story she told her neighbor. What was she to say? I obliviated my parents and forced them to move to Australia? I didn't know that my parents chose to hide my dad's heart disease, and because of that I caused him to miss a heart transplant that could've saved his life. Instead, he died having a heart attack and my mother chose to commit suicide because she was missing a huge chunk of her memory and dealing with the loss of her husband?

When one thought of the situation like that, it was enough to make one cry, and she did, loudly. Everything hurt so fucking much. Her intentions were good. No one could accuse her of that. She just wanted them safe. The price of her meddling was costly. 

It took months to sort through all the stuff in her parents' house. Which was now, legally, hers. The only time she used magic inside her parents' home was the obliviation and occasional apparition. It was partially out of respect to her parents who never quite felt comfortable with frequent use of spells, and the fact, that Hermione never learned house keeping or cooking spells.

Despite it being her childhood home, Hermione hated staying there every minute. The pictures on the walls, frozen in time, were smiling at her. They were mocking her. Her relatives visited from time to time (another reason for minimum magic), but she didn't want to see them. They would despise her if they knew the truth. She avoided Mrs. Madge like the plague. There were no magical visitors. The floo was not connected, and the wards only accepted her apparition. She would've moved out if she could. There was one problem: it was uncommon for an unmarried girl to live outside her parents home in the wizarding world. She was welcomed at the Weasley's home, but she needed space. Harry hadn't even moved from the Weasley's house into 12 Grimmauld place.

There were so many tacit rules. Hermione felt uncomfortable now that she was finished with Hogwarts. She felt stuck in between two worlds where neither wanted her. Her relatives didn't know about half of her life. Her magical friends didn't know what it was like to be in her situation. Now, they were considered adults, and expected to get jobs. She felt like a disillusioned Hemingway character.

There were four letters on the table regarding jobs. Harry and Ron were lucky. They both knew exactly what careers they wanted. Their training began next week. Hermione, on the other hand, had no clue. "I suppose I have to start somewhere." She said wistfully to the empty room. The first job interview began tomorrow. 

She fell asleep watching Buffy. In some strange way, Hermione felt that Buffy was relatable. Unfortunately, the night terrors robbed her of any peace.

**Author's Note**

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fanfic. Constructive criticism is welcomed. I particularly wanted to portray the wizarding world with strict rules, and very little muggle influence in this fanfic.

 


	2. Options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have edited chapter 1. If you have not seen the changes, check it out.

The first offer letter was thrown into the trash.

The job was glorified paper pushing in the Magical Environmental Department (MED). The office was stuffy and smelled of expired ink. Hermione had seen at least three spiders crawled out of a single scroll. It wouldn't have been so bad, if it had not been for the potential boss. The majority of employees working in the MED worked in small glass cubicles. The supervisor maintained a humongous office that was hidden from the rest of the department. 

When her potential boss called her into his office, he sang his department's praises. He told all sorts of tales of complicated bills he and his team had drafted. If Hermione had not paid attention during history classes, she would have been unaware that not a single bill he had drafted had been passed. The proposals were ridiculous and wasteful, but still, Hermione had not decided against the job. As she contemplated, the man leaned over the tawdry desk to offer a word of encouragement. "With your bright mind and outstanding list of achievements, this is absolutely the place for you. Many Hogwarts graduates would be delighted to work here so soon after school. You can begin tomorrow if you like." 

"Thank you sir—" 

"And be sure to wear that muggle clothing around the office. It's," he paused searching for the right term. "A real treat for the eyes, if you know what I mean." He smiled at her as if he had given her the best compliment of her life.

That had done it. This was clearly not the right job for her. 

"I'll write up the offer letter right now. You can sign it before you leave." _Fuck no._ Giving him the excuse of wanting to think it over, she promptly left. The first stop after the interview was to buy robes. Clearly, muggle pant suits were out of the question. Hermione's cheeks burned with the embarrassment. Now that she thought about it, she did not see a single person wearing muggle clothing. Wizards viewed professional muggle clothing as scandalously tight, short, and outrageously revealing. 

As she purchased her new robes, the shop girl informed Hermione that "Proper witches wear hats." Insecurity spent a small fortune at Hermione's expense. 8 robes, 8 hats, 5 shoes, and 1 new purse to replace the worn beaded bag. Any buyer's remorse was pushed aside when she tried on the clothes at home in front of the bedroom mirror. _Merlin, I feel like I belong._

_Knock knock knock!_

Her brain dared her not to answer the door. Besides, she was too busy admiring the new robes.

_Knock knock knock!_

"Hermione? Open up, I know you're home." A familiar voice called from the front door.  

Hermione frantically pulled off the robes and hat and hid them under the bed.

Putting on the first thing she could find, which was an old pair of jeans and an old ratty t shirt, she ran down the stairs, tripping over her own feet in the process. Hermione attempted to slow her breathing as she swung the door open.

"Oh, sweetie. No." Her cousin stared at Hermione's outfit with disgust. Hermione sighed and stepped aside for her cousin to enter the foyer. 

"Look, I know this is a tough time for you, but you cannot keep living like this." Hermione watched her cousin survey the living room as if she were looking for evidence that Hermione had turned to hard drugs to cope with the pain. 

"Andrea, I'm fine— and living like what? It's not like I stayed home all day and sulked. I'll have you know that today I interviewed for a job." Andrea's face scrunched in confusion as she paused momentarily from her drug investigation. 

"A job? What about university?" Great. How does one explain that magical folk do not attend university to a muggle relative who has no idea magic exists?

"Um, I— I'm not going?" She finished her statement so weakly that it sounded like a question. Andrea stared at Hermione as if she had grown an extra head. 

"You're not going?" She repeated. "Okay. I can see this is a great deal worse than I thought. Please, sit down. Is this still hot?" She asked holding up the tea pot sitting on the end table. Hermione nodded. "Cups are in the kitchen." After Andrea had settled herself down on the couch with the tea, she was ready to bestow all the wisdom and experience she had learned within her 23 years.

"Not going to university is not an option. I went. I'm better for it. Your parents would've wanted you to go. Your mum used to tell my mum how smart you were and all that, but now, suddenly, you're not going? You'll be my only cousin who is not going. This is ridiculous! How do you expect to make any money?" 

"Not everyone has to go. There are plenty of jobs that don't require degrees." Hermione knew that her reasoning didn't make any sense to Andrea. In fact, there were no wizarding careers that required degrees. 

"Not any worth having. You're making a huge mistake. You're depressed, and not thinking clearly. Where did you apply?" Hermione stayed silent. Her cousin horrified by her silence exclaimed "You applied, right?" Hermione didn't apply. In a world without Voldemort, she most likely would've filled out her applications, but instead of stressing about acceptance, she stressed about the slaughter of the muggle-born.

Andrea stayed silent for a bit. Her psychology class did not prepare her for this situation. "Perhaps, a job isn't such a bad idea," She relented. "I do still want you to apply though. You could start in spring 2000, instead of waiting till autumn. If you want, I'll help you fill them out."

"Okay." It was useless to argue with Andrea, so you may as well appease her. The reply seemed pacified Andrea. The rest of the evening was spent by ordering Indian food, and Andrea's profound life advice. Her poor, depressed, suicidal cousin needed all the therapy she could get. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second job lovely. Hermione wished she could've accepted it. The job was to manage a small bookshop. The owner had died during the Wizarding War, and the closest relatives did not want the responsibility of the shop. The job screamed her name. The problem was that she expected more from herself. She did not earn such high marks to be a book store manager. Perhaps it was snobby, but she wanted to do something important and interesting. Something that would make a difference. Hiding in the books, as Ron liked to say, would not provide the prestige for her. 

The second letter was thrown into the trash.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The third job was becoming an assistant teacher to the Hogwarts staff. The pay was small, she would be required to board on grounds, and Hermione had enough of Hogwarts. She wanted to experience more to the Wizarding World other than Hogwarts. Just because she was a good student did not mean that she was a good teacher. Harry and Ron hated her "tutoring sessions". Although Hogwarts provided many good memories for Hermione, she felt resentment. Students' lives were put at risk every single year she attended. She would not be returning again.

The third letter was thrown into the trash.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Only one interview remained. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Draco will enter the fic in a few chapters, so don't worry. :)


	3. Tricked

The 4th job was completely different from the others to which she applied. It was not a ministry job, nor was it a Hogwarts staff position. It was no where near Diagon alley. The "office building" was an old stone castle. It appeared to be empty when she entered the building. The sound of her footsteps echoed down the narrow winding halls. Hermione was not sure what she expected, but it most certainly was not the handsome young wizard who soon appeared to greet her. He was tall, with golden hair, appeared to be in his mid twenties, and he had blue eyes that were bewitching. Hermione nearly swooned. 

The handsome wizard guided her through the winding passageways, explaining the history of the building, the prestige of the position, and specifics of the job. Hermione hung on to every word as best she could. The history was rich and there were so many things to remember. She could only imagine how proud everyone would be of her once they learned of her new job. Although, she could not seem to remember his name. 

The job sounded amazing. If she accepted, she would be working in a magical research lab. The lab was privately owned by an older witch who was wealthy and ambitious enough to finance the magical advancement the ministry failed to achieve. Access to anything in the medieval castle would be granted if it were suitable for whatever project she would be working on. It appealed to her intellectually and aesthetically.

Hermione longed to explore every inch of that castle. The condensed magical properties radiated off of various objects. If one could become high off of magic, that would be the place to do it. Her tour guide, sensing her curiosity, held up a heavily perfumed flower for her to inhale while they explored the botanical greenhouse.

Even after Hermione and her guide left the greenhouse to view other wings of the castle, the scent of the flower lingered in her nose. Her guide was polite and charming.

"If you were to accept, you would work for us for one whole year. The proprietor prefers to have complete access to her employees. She cares very much about her projects. Although it's a lot of work, this is an opportunity you may never have again. Once you complete your obligation, you would be free to leave or renew the contract. Now, this next room is the main office." The door swung open to a room with a high ceiling that contained many bookshelves and an intricately carved wooden desk in the center of the room. "If this is to your liking, we will be working together soon." He smiled kindly at her as he handed her the contract and slid a quill and ink well in front of her. 

Hermione glanced at the contract. A little voice in the back of her head, advised her to take a few days to think it over. She took a peak back at her companion who she found was still watching her. His eyes were the richest shade of blue she had ever seen. Why should she take a few days when she already knew she wanted the job? Without hesitation, she picked up the quill and signed the parchment. Before she had lifted her eyes, she heard an odd crack. 

There was something wrong. The handsome wizard held his intense gaze. For some reason, she felt compelled to stare back. To her horror, the beautiful features melted away from the bones and the structure began to shift. The blue eyes retained its pigment still staring directly at her. Frozen to her chair, she watched the new skin rapidly grow over the changes bone structure. It was the most disgusting thing she ever watched. Blood dripped down the wizard's neck as a new face formed and the rest of the body began to shift. The robes tore as the bones shifted and stretched into an entirely new form. The transformation was loud and looked painful. Hermione wrenched her gaze away, covering her ears to block the revolting cracking sounds which filled the room. Once she was sure it had stopped, Hermione reluctantly peaked at the spot the handsome wizard once stood. He was gone. In his place stood a short, decrepit, old crone with the same intense blue eyes. The crone's eyes flickered toward a large mirror that hung on the wall. Glancing at the mirror, Hermione saw the handsome young man, but when she looked back, it was only the old crone. 

"A handsome blonde man? So that is all it takes for you to sign away a year of your life. My, my! Your standards are low," the old witch mocked.

Hermione flinched at the cacophonous laughter. The crone removed an ornate silver ring off her bony finger and placed it on Hermione's middle finger. 

"You'll start tomorrow," old witch decided. Hermione fiddled with the ring on her finger and began to protest. "N—no! I won't work for you! You tricked me! Take your ring back!" She all but screamed. She desperately pulled at the ring, but it seemed to be stuck. 

"I tricked you? You stupid girl! It's your own fault for not reading the contract carefully before signing it. I explained every detail during the tour. It's your own pride that deceived you. Now don't insult me. Get out of my office!" The old witch snapped. With that, Hermione fled. 

* * *

Mrs. Weasley was levitating the dirty dishes from lunch as Hermione apparated into the Burrow hysterical. "Oh, dear! What's wrong?" Mrs. Weasley immediately abandoned the dirty dishes which crashed onto the floor, and led Hermione to the couch.

"It's okay," she soothed and muttered a _reparo_ to mend the broken dishes.

Hermione's words came out in an incoherent rush in an attempt to explain. The tone was unusually high pitched, and then, there was sobbing. Mrs. Weasley tried her best to console the girl, but she wasn't sure what exactly was wrong. She tried to distract her by complimenting the pretty ring, but it only made Hermione cry even harder. 

"It won't come off. It won't come off!" she moaned as she tugged at the ring for the millionth time.

"Nonsense! Of course we'll get it off!" Mrs. Weasley insisted. 40 minutes later, she acknowledged defeat. The ring wasn't coming off. Hermione finally stopped the hysterics, and was quietly sitting on the couch.  

At that moment, Harry and Ron returned to the Burrow. They had just finished playing a round of quiddich. 

"Mione! Why didn't you say you were coming over?" Ron exclaimed while Harry looked confused at her red nose and tear stained cheeks. 

"Hermione, dear, why don't you start from the beginning?" Mrs. Weasley suggested. The two boys settled across from Hermione, and waited to hear what happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I bet you didn't expect that! Also, Hermione imagines the perfect wizard to have blonde hair (hint, can you guess?).


	4. Consequences

 

Hermione felt incredibly stupid when she explained what happened. 

Mrs. Weasley told Hermione to dry her tears. It would be alright, perhaps a bit uncomfortable, but she would make it through the year. After, she could reapply to The Ministry. 

Ron reminded her why she should've joined them in the auror's training program. This wouldn't have happened if she just listened to him. "Why did you go to that interview in the first place? There were three other perfectly good options. Bloody hell, Mione. You're supposed to be the brilliant one." he interjected. 

Harry suggested that she sabotage every project so that the nasty crone would want to fire her. "If she wants you to complete the year so badly, just ruin everything. If it makes you feel better, just say it's an accident."

Hermione brushed aside the curls that escaped from underneath the hat. "I can't purposely sabotage a year's worth of research!"

"Why not? Harry challenged. His tone became more intense as he spoke. "We fought that damn war for the good of everyone else and won, and you're going to accept that crap job? In case you have forgotten, she has nearly complete control of you for a whole year! I don't know about you, but I'm done taking orders. For the first time in my life, I'm taking charge and I get to decide what I want! No one else, but me. And you know what, it feels great. You should have any damn job you want. You earned it. We almost died for it— hell, some of us did—

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley snapped as she hastily slammed her tea cup on the saucer. The clatter matched her agitation. 

"Soooo—" Ron began as he tried to diffuse the tension. It was so quiet one could hear the spelled sponges scrubbing the dirty pots and pans.

"You can either spend the year miserable or make that damn crone fire you so you can do something you actually want to do," and with that, Harry got up and went upstairs. He had been so irritable lately.

"I'll let you two talk. Hermione, I do want you to know that it will be okay," Mrs. Weasley smiled, and took her tea into the other room.

Ron remained on the couch. For a time, they did not talk. They sat together in silence. It was more comforting than a speech. Finally, as she was about to leave, he decided what he wanted to say.  "Look Hermione. I— I think you'll be fine. You can handle some cranky bitch. Just don't piss her off.  Try to complete the year with as few problems as possible. Who knows what she might make you do," he shuddered. 

"Oh, Ron!" She hugged him tightly before leaving.

* * *

 The next day, Hermione decided to take Ron's advice. She would stick it out for a year. After all, it was still the same job for which she applied. She convinced herself that she had overreacted over the meeting with her strange new boss. _I_ _t's not that bad. I'll be fine. It's going to be okay she said to herself._

It was early in the morning when Hermione arrived at the old castle. The front gate was locked and warded, allowing no apparition. 

_POP!_

A house elf peered up at her through the iron gate. "The Missus ain't ready for ya," it informed her. 

"No, no you don't understand. I was told to begin my work today—" Hermione protested as she noticed the elf's lack of clothes. She took off her hat and held it out to the little elf. It looked at her with disbelief. "Go on, take it!" she coaxed. 

"GO AWAY! The Missus ain't ready for ya!" The elf yelled angrily and popped away as quickly as he or she had come. Hermione sighed and put the hat back on. One day, that elf may appreciate what was offered. The poor thing just didn't know it yet. 

She returned home and distracted herself in the computer room for a few hours. What a sight! Wizards and muggles would be baffled if they saw her. She wore full robes while surfing the web. Her wand lay next to the mouse. Suddenly, her finger began to hurt. It felt as if something were squeezing the bejeebers out of her. It was that cursed ring! Swearing loudly, she grabbed her wand and apparated to the castle. 

This time, the gate was unlocked, and the elf was no where to be seen. 

Her finger throbbed as she hurried through the corridors looking for the crone. She passed the first staircase, the entrance to the green house, the library, the store room—

The door swung open. "About time!" the crone barked and unloaded a bunch of supplies on Hermione. The squeezing stopped and Hermione nearly sighed in relief. However, there was no time for rest. The crone marched down the hall straight to the lab.

"What is all this for?" Hermione tried to ask, but the old bitch ignored her and set up a large cauldron. 

"Gut the fish. Don't throw the eyes away," she ordered. 

Hermione wrinkled her nose, but said nothing as she picked up the slimy fish. Once the ingredients were in the cauldron, they began to brew. The smell was putrid, but the crone remained unfazed. 

_POP!_

The little elf whom Hermione had spoken with earlier suddenly appeared in the doorway of the room. She smiled at it, but it refused to look at her. 

"A visitor," it announced. "Mr. Pucey." Hermione snapped to attention. Mr. Pucey? She knew that name! What was his name again? Oh Merlin, A something. Adam, Ashley, Anthony, Adrian! That was it. Adrian Pucey. A slytherin, quiddich player, inquisitorial squad member, and possible Death Eater. She never spoke to him, but she certainly knew of him. His friends and family were Death Eaters and supporters of Voldemort. 

"The elder or younger?" the old witch inquired.

"Elder," the little elf responded still ignoring Hermione. An overwhelming amount of alarming thoughts ran through her mind. What was the elder Mr. Pucey doing here? Why was her boss meeting with Death Eaters? Surely, nothing good would come of meeting with Death Eaters. Did her boss support them? Was she one of them? What if she herself were in danger? Hermione began to sweat and her heart began to race. 

"I knew he would come back. They always do. Sooner or later" The crone wiped the sticky residue from the potion ingredients off her pale bony hands. 

"I'll be back. Keep stirring, and don't let it burn," her boss commanded before she left to greet her guest. 

Hermione's anxiety did not leave with her boss' exit. She continued to stir the cauldron as she repeated Mrs. Weasley's advice over and over. _I'll be okay. I can do this. It's going to be okay. I am going to be okay._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Who else remembers the old computer rooms? 
> 
> Don't worry, Draco should appear in the next chapter. 
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you understand what I'm trying to convey with my writing.


	5. Encounter

 

Two weeks later, Hermione found herself having lunch with Parvati Patil. Hermione listened as Parvati chirped away about the recent trip she had taken. 

"I had such a good time," Parvati gushed. "So many new portraits too! Check it out." Parvati pulled out about a dozen miniature portraits from her purse.

"These are adorable," Hermione exclaimed as she held one in the palm of her hand. "Your image is sticking it's tongue out at me," she laughed as she handed it back to her friend. "Did Padma join you?" 

Parvati made a face. "She did during the first week, but she met someone, and now she's engaged," she huffed. 

Hermione nearly choked on her food. "Engaged? We're doing that now?"

"Well— I get where she's coming from," Parvati reasoned. "No one wants to live in their parent's house longer than you have to. It just seems rushed, you know?"

"I still don't get that rule. What's the big deal about moving out?" Hermione asked more for herself than about Padma. 

Parvati rolled her eyes. "It's really stupid. Our parents' generation believes that nonsense about unmarried witches' magic is dangerous and volatile alone." 

"A witch's magic is dangerous when she is unmarried?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "That's the reason? I thought it was for the purpose of protection!"

"They claim that as the reason." Parvati shook her head. "You'd have to be an idiot to believe it though, she snipped. 

"So who is the fiancé," Hermione asked. 

"Oh, his name is Hector. He went to Durmstrang. I think he is a bit older than us. Maybe 25? 26?" Parvati shrugged as if she were already bored with him. "I want dessert. What about you?" 

"Fine with me."

Parvati waved the waiter over to place her order. "Oh! I almost forgot. Do you know who is currently an unmarried witch living scandalously alone?" Parvati almost could not contain herself with this information. 

"Um— I don't know. I haven't seen much of anyone lately." Hermione tried to think of her former school mates. Who would be most likely to do something scandalous? "Lavender?" 

"No!" Parvati scowled as Hermione muttered a half-assed apology. 

"Pansy Parkinson!" _Who is that?_ Hermione's mind went blank. 

"You know who she is. Slytherin, dark hair, our year—"

Hermione wrinkled her nose."You mean that snotty blood supremacist?"

"Yep," Parvati answered as she eyed the chocolate lava cake which had just arrived. "She lost both parents during The Battle, you know. She doesn't really have anything left for her in England anymore."

"She left England? Where does she live now?" Hermione asked as she took a bite of the cake. "Merlin, this is delicious!" 

"I know, right? I could eat this for the rest of my life. She went to New Orleans." Parvati said in between bites. "My cousin says that she smokes muggle cigarettes and throws wild parties where she dabbles in sex magic."

This time, Hermione really did choke on her food. 

"Are you alright?" Parvati watched as Hermione tried to conceal her coughing fit. "You" _*cough*_ "aren't _*cough_ * "serious!" Hermione waited for her friend to admit it was a joke, but the confession never came. "Oh, come on! Uptight muggle-hating Parkinson smoking cigarettes?"

"It's been a rough time."

"Throwing sex parties?" Hermione folded her arms. 

Parvati shrugged. "That's what my cousin said."

Hermione smirked at that response. "Why is your cousin attending Pansy's magic sex parties?"

Parvati gasped. "My cousin is perfectly respectable witch! She does not do sex magic at parties! She just told me that is what she heard. Merlin and Morgana! I tell you one piece of gossip, and you use it against me!" 

"It just sounds ridiculous. I can't imagine Pansy Parkinson of all people rebelling against respectable wizarding society."

"I know it's probably exaggerated, but where there's a curse, there's a wand." 

"True. But what about you? You haven't mentioned what you are going to be doing now that you're finished traveling." 

Parvati sighed. "First of all, don't get me wrong. I love my new job. I'm working in the Department of Mysteries. Remember, I loved divination back in school? Well, I get to practice it for a living! I'm not an Unspeakable yet. There are only so many positions. If they are filled, you have to work as an intern learning the ropes until a position becomes available. I'm still bound by the same rules though. I'm not allowed to share any more information other than what I just told you. So, as you can imagine, it's quite frustrating for me. I want to tell everyone all the interesting little tidbits, but I'm forced to keep it all to myself." 

Hermione felt envious of Parvati's success. "That's great. I wish I could say I loved my new job," she responded glumly. 

"What's wrong with it?" 

"I don't understand what I'm even working towards. My boss doesn't explain anything. She hordes all the information, and barks out orders. She expects me to be available at all hours of the day and night to do her bidding. I'm supposed to be working on research and experimenting with new potions, spells, etc..., but I have no idea what I'm even creating. She keeps house elves, and those poor little things don't even know they are slaves," she huffed. It felt good to vent. 

"Slaves?" Parvati frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They have no clothes, they have no wages, and they have to do whatever she commands. Is that not the very definition of slavery?" Hermione challenged. 

Parvati looked puzzled. "They aren't human, Hermione. They are like little dogs. They want to please the master." 

"You don't understand. I'm going to send you some books. You'll understand then." I'll send Uncle Tom's Cabin, Oroonoko,... "Even if you didn't find that grotesque, she has shady visitors. Death Eaters have appointments with her, and honestly, I don't even know where she stood during the war. "

"What are the meetings about?"

"I have no idea! I don't know what I'm working on, and I don't know who it's for!" Hermione was ready to pull her hair out.

"That is weird. What are you going to do?" 

Hermione slumped in her chair. "I don't know. Stick it out? Spy on her? Who knows at this point." 

"Maybe she is one of those people who takes a while to warm up to a new person," Parvati suggested. "She probably has poor social skills." 

Hermione snorted. If only that was it. "Maybe." 

Lunch ended shortly after that. Hermione was happy to see Parvati again and they both agreed to meet again. Padma's engagement party would happen soon. She couldn't believe that a classmate was already getting married. Hermione's list of romantic endeavors was painfully short. 1 boyfriend (lasted 3 weeks), 3 kisses, 6 crushes, and 0 sex. There were 13 year-olds with more experience. Hermione was not ready to attend her friends' engagement parties and weddings. 

* * *

Another week passed since Hermione's lunch with Parvati. Unfortunately, she learned nothing new. The crone ordered the same potion to be made over and over again only changing one ingredient each time. Whatever it was for, it must have been extremely important. Today, she was sitting the library researching properties of various plants to substitute the current ingredients. 

What disturbed Hermione the most was that the crone transfigured herself into different people to meet different guest. Today, when the crone left to meet her guest, she was a beautiful young women with long straight red hair. The eyes remained blue.

"Fantasies are very powerful. You can get people to agree to anything."  The crone-in-disguise laughed. To another's ears, it would have sounded melodious, but all Hermione heard was horrid cackling. However, Hermione knew she was right. 

There were several guests that day. Hermione avoided them. Mostly, because she didn't want to find out, and because her boss never explicitly said it was okay for her to meet with them. 

She had the nagging suspicion that the crone-in-disguise seduced various men for expensive gifts. That would certainly explain how she could fund these various projects. The potion ingredients were expensive and rare, the castle was filled with antiques, the books were limited edition, and the grounds were extensive. She highly doubted that the unfortunate suitors knew they were being seduced by an old decrepit woman. 

If the crone did not transfigure herself to look like someone else, Hermione guessed she was meeting with clients. If she eliminated the creepiness of the whole arrangement, she would have to admit that the old witch was quite smart. 

Anticipating that the crone would want her to re-make the potion with the new ingredient she researched earlier, Hermione went to the greenhouse to gather her ingredients. She heard a man's voice echo down the stairs. There must be another guest. S _uitor or client?_

Once Hermione gathered her ingredients she quietly walked back to the lab. As she made her way up the stairs she heard the man's voice again. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she leaned over the railing to see who it was.

Blonde hair. White blonde hair.

Why she would recognize it anywhere. Malfoy. It had to be. He stood below her in black robes. She shook in anger. He should be in Azkaban for all the trouble he caused! Lost in her thoughts, an herb sprig slipped from her hands over the railing onto Malfoy's shoulder. She wanted to hide, but she couldn't seem to move. He pulled the sprig off his shoulder and lifted his face in her direction. His steel grey eyes stared without blinking at her. Suddenly, he swiftly started up the stairs after her. 

Hermione almost screamed. She scrambled up the remaining steps and rushed down the hall towards the lab. She had almost made it to safety when he grabbed her left wrist, forcing her to face him. She took her right hand and slapped his face with the back of her hand. Her ring cut his cheek enough to draw blood. 

"Fuck you, Granger," he hissed as he dropped her wrist to grasp his cheek. He blocked her path to the lab. In order to make it to safety, she would have to push past him. Avoiding physical contact with Malfoy was imperative to Hermione so she waited. 

Once he was done making sure that the cut wouldn't scar, he glared at her. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Excuse me? I could ask you the same question!" How dare he? He always made assumptions that she didn't belong!

"My presence is none of you business." Ha. Was he one of the deceived suitors? Suddenly, she began to laugh. This was better than anything! The laughing didn't help. He looked so frustrated! If only he knew. 

Malfoy glared even more. "What?" 

Not bothering to wipe the huge smirk off her face, she decided to ask him directly. "Are you fucking her?"

That was clearly not the question he expected. "Wha— Who?" His eyes widened when he realized to whom she was referring. "You are absolutely disgusting," he enunciated carefully. He looked nauseated by her insinuation. 

The smirk fell from her face. So he was a client. 

"What are you doing here?" he repeated. 

"I work here." Hermione dared him to say otherwise as she glared back.

He scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? You and bloody Potter stalked me through school, even second year—yes! I know about that. And now, you oh-so-conveniently show up here? No. You should be at some paper pushing ministry job, not here. You are petty enough for it."

"Maybe, but it's the truth." 

He scrutinized her expression. "Maybe you are telling the truth," He conceded. "Why?"

Why!? Hermione sputtered. "What do you mean why? Because I applied!"

"But why would you? Are you here to spy on me? Are you sabotaging these projects— I swear, if I find out you're sabotaging—"

"You'll what? Curse me?" Hermione mocked. "You can pretend that you were neutral all you want, but you lost, remember?" She shoved him away from her. "You've already got two strikes against you. Public opinion will change with a third. You won't bully me, Malfoy. This isn't Hogwarts and your money can't save you from everything." 

"Damn right it's not. This may come as a shock to you, but I don't care if I get another strike against me. This project is extremely important to me. If you sabotage this project, I will come after you. Whatever it takes." With that, he sharply turned around and left as quickly as he arrived. 

A moment later, the ring pinched her finger. The crone was looking for her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been my longest chapter yet! Draco has finally made an appearance. Let me know what you think.


	6. Experiment I

The revised potion seemed to satisfy her boss. It appeared to be an anecdote. A very strong one. Hopefully, the cure wouldn't kill you. What it was for, she didn't know. She held up one of the glass vials. The potion was a charcoal grey color. No one would be able to swallow it without puking. The smell remained vile. If only it were a pill, or a shot— A shot! That's it! Hermione snatched her wand and transfigured an empty vial into a needle.

"What is that?" Her boss asked as she peered over Hermione shoulder.

"It's a shot. Whoever takes this won't be able to drink this. It's better for it to be injected," Hermione explained while pouring the liquid into the needle.

"The effects are the same?"

"They should be. It should be tested though." Hermione handed the shot to the old witch for her to examine.

"It will be. Make more of these," her boss instructed. Hermione continued transfiguring as her boss left the room abruptly. It was the first normal conversation she had since she began working at the castle.

A few moments later the old witch returned with a cage containing a rat. "Test the potion on the rat and watch it closely. I want updates every hour." Hermione frowned. It looked healthy, although, Hermione did not consider herself a rat expert.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

The crone looked annoyed. "Why do you ask?"

"How will I know the potion works, if I don't know what symptoms need to be cured?"

"Just write what you see, and I'll check on it tomorrow. That's all the information you need. You can watch it here tonight or take it with you."

Hermione definitely didn't want to sleep in that lonely castle. "I'll take it home."

"Very well," the old witch nodded. 

Hermione gathered her things and the new furry companion, and left. When she arrived home, it was after 7:00 PM. 

Setting the rat cage on the dining room table, Hermione wandered into the kitchen. She was absolutely starving. It had been awhile since she went grocery shopping. Maybe there was something left in the fridge— there was nothing. At least, there was nothing Hermione wanted to eat. It was time to pay a visit to the grocery store. 

She glanced at the rat. "Well, little guy, hold tight. I'll be back soon with food." She would inject it when she got home. She was just getting into her car when she realized she was still wearing robes. "Shit." The point of her hat got squished in the car. She rushed inside to change before any of her neighbors saw her. _Okay, let's try this again._

When she returned from the grocery store, the landline was ringing. Setting the bags down, she answered. "Hello?" 

"Hermione! I've been calling you all week! We're really worried about you."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Lena. I just got home." The rat chattered in the background. 

"What have you been up to? I haven't seen you much lately." 

"I got a job a couple of weeks ago." Hopefully, she wouldn't have to explain too much. 

"Doing what?"

"Uh— Scientific research." 

Her Aunt paused for a minute. "Oh. That sounds good. Does it pay well?" 

"It's decent. It provides a lot of experience." 

"Andrea says you aren't going to university this fall. Even though you have a job, you need to get a degree. I want you to let your cousin help you fill out applications either for spring or next autumn."

Hermione still didn't know how she was getting out of that.  "Alright, Aunt Lena." She wanted to get off the phone and put her pizza in the oven. 

"I visited your parents' graves yesterday."

Hermione froze. 

"I miss them everyday. Your mother, especially. The flowers were dying so I brought new ones. Yellow roses. She loved yellow roses," her aunt continued.  

"I—I remember." Her eyes welled up with tears. She hadn't visited the grave since the funeral. She couldn't. 

"I hope I didn't make you sad dear," her aunt sniffled. "That's not why I called. I want you to know you can come over to my house any time. I have plenty of food. Wait, do you have food? When is the last time you went grocery shopping?" 

"About 20 minutes ago."

"Good. When is the last time you cleaned the house?" Oops. Hermione glanced around the house. It was getting a bit dusty. 

"Uh— about 3 weeks ago?" 

"I'll send over a maid. Leave a key under the mat. How are the plants doing?" 

"Surprisingly, still alive." 

"Do you have money?" 

"Yes, I have money." 

"Ok. If you need anything, call me. I want you to come over soon. 

"I will. I'll call you soon. Thanks, Aunt Lena."

"No problem, dear. I'll talk to you soon." Hermione hung the phone back on the wall and put her frozen pizza in the oven. The house was so quiet, except for the chattering of the rat. Oh! She almost forgot. Time to inject.

She held the rat still as she injected it slowly with the needle. The little creature hissed and squeaked loudly. "It's alright, shhhh!" she soothed as pulled the needle out. 

"Ouch!" The rat bit her. Damn it straight to hell! As she washed her hands, she remembered to check the time. 8:00 PM. She would have to stay up all night to jot down its reaction. That called for coffee and music. She found one of her parents' favorite CDs and blasted it throughout the house. A large pot of coffee was set to brew. Was the pizza ready yet? Nope. She may as well paint her toe nails. By the time she had done all that and eaten her pizza, it was 9:00 PM. 

She peered over the cage. The rat seemed to be fine. It was sitting in the corner of the cage. When it noticed her looking, it hissed. 

Hermione wrote her observations down in a notebook. She'd check on it again in an hour. In the meantime, she could watch another episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer. 

To pass the night, she listened to music, watched several episodes of Buffy, read 8 chapters of Women In Love by D. H. Lawrence, painted her nails, cleaned her room, and sorted through all the unread mail from last week.

By 6:00 in the morning, Hermione felt as if she were going nuts. Being overly caffeinated and having a lack of sleep was a very bad combination. The caffeine distorted her view. She felt as if she were shaking. The rat looked as if it were shaking too. Was she just imagining it? As the hours passed, the rat seemed to gain a lot more energy. It paced the cage back and forth for 20 minutes straight. Perhaps it wanted a larger space to move around. 

She decided to shower. It would be time to go to work soon anyway. She was so tired. 

About 30 minutes later, when she was combing her hair, Hermione heard a loud series of squeaks that lowered in pitch and volume each time. _What in Merlin's name..._ She threw on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with the robes, to check on the rat. Midway down the stairs, she heard a splitting sound (it sounded like metal) and loud thump. 

The cage lay on the floor split in two. To her horror, she discovered that the rat was no ordinary rodent, but a transfigured man. He was completely still, his left foot was still stuck in half of the cage, and his eyes were wide open. Hermione began to hyperventilate. If one died while transfigured, one would return to his or her natural form. But maybe there was some freak of a situation. She should check just to make sure.

She hesitantly pulled his sleeve back to check his pulse. The Dark Mark glared up at her. In order to check his pulse, she would have to touch the mark. Hermione felt nauseous. She squeezed her eyes shut, and placed one finger on his wrist.There was nothing. His skin was ice cold. He was dead. 

The nausea grew stronger. Hermione tried to drag herself to the trash can, but she knew she wasn't going to make it.

 _"Accio_ trash can!" The trash can flew in front of her almost instantaneously. She grabbed it, and vomited. 

She stayed curled up on the dining room floor for at least another 10 minutes trying to calm herself. Each time she looked at the man, she felt sick. She loathed the crone more than ever. Had the crone known the rat was a transfigured man? Transfiguration and potions were tricky. Everything must be exact. One mistake, and the project is ruined. She would have never tried to inject a potion with so many unknown variables. Adrenaline gave her the courage to speak her mind, she rolled the dead man into an old sheet and apparated to the castle.

She stood outside and pounded on the gate in her muggle sweatpants. A few moments later, an elf arrived to shoo her away. "Go away! You weren't summoned. "

"I WILL NOT GO AWAY. IT'S A FUCKING EMERGENCY!" she shouted. The elf cringed at brashness of her tone. Hermione yanked the sheet off revealing the dead man's face. The elf stared with wide eyes before letting Hermione in as she levitated the corpse behind her. 

* * *

The crone decided that the cause of death was because the potion was too potent for the transfigured rat form. "Next time, we will only give it to wizards in their natural form," she said as if the man's fate didn't bother her one bit.

Hermione stared at her in disbelief, her hands still shaking. Whether it was from the caffeine or the shock, she didn't know. "Next time? You expect there to be a next time?" Her voice began to raise. "That man died in my house! He died because you didn't tell me the full story. If I had known he was transfigured, I would have never given him the injection!"

"We must expect these sort of things to happen when experimenting. It's something that comes with experience." The crone's condescending tone grated at Hermione's already jittery nerves.

"Something that comes w— wait, you knew?" You knew he was transfigured, and you let me inject him?" Hermione was horrified. The old witch's lack of morals seemed to have no end.

"Of course I knew. Did you think I would keep spare rats around? They are unsanitary." The bitch had the gal to laugh. "My, you are so young," she exclaimed pensively.

"Who was he?" 

"Pardon?" The crone looked genuinely taken aback. "I don't think you are entitled to that information. I don't pay you to know the gossip." She picked up a knife and chopped the dead man's hair off. 

"I think I'm entitled to know who died in my house." Hermione surprised herself with the steadiness which she spoke. 

"He was a cheat, liar, and a thief. He owed me a great debt which he refused to pay. The crone's bony fingers clenched around the fist-full of hair as she spoke. "He had the nerve to continue to ask me for one favor after the next, and when I asked him for one _tiny_ favor, he refused! Ungrateful troll," she spat. "As if I didn't know about his deceitful ways. Don't make him out to be a martyr. He doesn't even deserve a name on the stone of his tomb." 

 Hermione shivered. The old witch's tone made her uncomfortable. It felt so cold in that castle, and she was so tired. 

The crone looked her up and down. "Once you stop that incessant shaking and wear proper robes, you will return and begin on the new test subject," she ordered.

Hermione felt the crone slip something into her hands as she disapparated. When she arrived in her bedroom, she saw it was a sleeping draught.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I actually wrote a draft for this chapter last week, but I wasn't sure if I was taking the story too far. Let me know what you think.


	7. Experiment IIA

Hermione never took that sleeping draught. How could she possibly trust anything that came from that wretched hag? So much for finishing the year without trouble. The small illusion of optimism was shattered. Although her Aunt's maid cleaned the entire house, it still felt dirty. She had a Death Eater die in her parents' home. A small part of her told her it was justice, but she quickly dismissed it. What a horrible thing to think. 

The crone still refused to give any more explanations. That was fine. If the greedy bitch wanted to hoard all of the information, Hermione would find out on her own. It would be stupid not to investigate. Besides, investigating is different from spying, she reasoned as she collected the muggle mail.

"Hermione Jane!" She didn't even have to turn around to know whose voice it was. She could hear the neighbor's footsteps quickly pattering along the pavement.

"Hello, Mrs. Madge. What's going on," Hermione sighed as she tucked the letters under her arm. The woman was delighted to tell her the scoop. 

"Well! The club had a meeting last night. We had a record-breaking crowd: 14! Of course, they loved my trifle. Not a bite left! Poor Joan. No one ate her tart."

Hermione zoned out as her nosy neighbor prattled away. She wondered if Mrs. Madge knew she had a dirt smudge on her chin.

"—one of the topics that came up was— can you guess? No? It was you!" 

Oh boy. Being a topic at Mrs. Madge's ~~gossip~~ garden club was never good news.

"Uh—why?" For a moment, Hermione wondered if someone saw her wearing the pointed hat. 

"Because of your owl infestation! I've counted at least 10 different owls flying around your house in the past few weeks. In daylight too! I see at least one every day. As a _concerned neighbor_ , I would suggest you do something about it. Haven't you noticed the damage they've done to your flowers?" Hermione glanced that 3 potted plants next to her front door. They looked exactly the same.

"They look fine to me," she replied. "I don't know what you expect me to do about them. They are owls! So what if we have an owl or two fly around the neighborhood? We've always had them."

"It's not just one or two owls! No other house has near as many owls attracted to it. Evelyn has seen them flying over her backyard towards your house. Joan says they are creepy, and the rest of the club agrees. Something should be done, and it's not just that we have birds flying around the neighborhood. You must have some sort of bird food luring them into the neighborhood!" She accused. 

"Luring them into— excuse me? I have no control over a couple of owls. This is ridiculous! Tell the club to mind their own business." Hermione walked away. She didn't have to deal with this. 

"It's the only explanation!" Mrs. Madge yelled from behind her. "None of the other houses have this problem. Your house is a magnet for them!" 

Mrs. Madge's complaints fell on a closed door. So she had been receiving more letters now that the war was over. She didn't think anyone noticed the owls. Apparently, her neighbors were a lot more observant than she had thought.

* * *

When Hermione returned to the castle for the first time after the ordeal, she found the crone disguised again, ready to meet a suitor. Today, she had jet black hair and her lips were painted red. Hermione thought she looked like Snow White. Oh, the irony. 

"Forget testing the potion."

Hermione took a sigh of relief. Thank Merlin. 

"We don't have enough time. One of my clients has agreed to take it despite the setback. You'll find him in my office. See me afterward," the crone-in-disguise ordered. 

Hermione opened her mouth to say no, but instead only a choking sound was heard. _NO!_ She tried again, but the same thing happened. _NO! NO! NO!_  She was literally unable to refuse. _Fucking contract._

The crone-in-disguise laughed as she walked away. Of course she knew, Hermione bitterly thought. 

Hermione slowly made her way to the office trying to buy time. Her fingertips trailed the walls.

_Could she do it? Could she sabotage the potion? Could she force the hag to fire her?_

The door was slightly cracked open. Peaking through the crack, she saw him again.

Malfoy. 

He hadn't seen her yet. He was staring out the window. Even though he was casually dressed (for his standards), he looked unsettled. He looked nervous.

Hermione pushed the door open, and his head snapped in her direction. 

"Granger," he nodded. He didn't look happy to see her, but it was— perhaps— the most civil tone he ever used with her.  

Hermione held her head high as she took a seat behind the desk. He didn't have to know that she didn't want to inject the shot. He also didn't have to know that she most likely was not supposed to sit in the crone's chair. She briefly wondered if she could get any information from him. After all, she was the one with the needle. 

"Are you here for the shot?" she asked ignoring his greeting. His face betrayed a flicker of confusion. 

"I'm here for the potion," he said firmly. 

She smiled. Hermione knew it was making him uncomfortable. That's exactly why she did it. "Of course you are," she haughtily replied as she retrieved a needle contained in a box on her boss' desk.  Hermione saw him lean forward to have a closer look at what was in her hand. He had probably never seen a muggle shot before. 

"Before we proceed, I just want to make sure that you understand this is not guaranteed." She told him as he had his eyes fixed on the needle. 

"If it doesn't work, I'll try something else," he replied, his eyes darted back to her face. "What is that? I'm supposed to be taking a potion! Don't play games with me Granger! I told you not to fucking try to sabotage—" he snapped. 

It was just like him to insult the things he didn't understand. She rolled her eyes. "Malfoy, this potion is to be taken in the form of a shot. It's nothing to it, really. You just let me pierce the needle into your skin—" He flinched at her description, but Hermione continued anyway. "and it shoots the potion into your system." 

He laughed in disbelief. "Who are you trying to fool? You can't really expect me to believe your outlandish stories." He squared his shoulders as if he were trying to make himself comfortable, but his hands gripped the sides of the chair.

"If you want to combat dark magic, you'll take it. Although, don't expect it to be 100% guaranteed. You're the first human we are trying this on, if you don't count the man transfigured as a rat. He died in case you were wondering."

He glared at her, narrowing his grey eyes. "If you're trying to scare me out of taking it, it's not going to work," he snarled. He reminded Hermione of a wounded animal backed into a corner, desperately fighting with no alternatives. 

Refusing to meet her gaze, his voice softened. It sounded slightly raspy. "I'm taking this because I have to." So he was playing to her sympathies.

"Your choice," she dismissively shrugged her shoulders. 

"Roll your sleeve back," she instructed and walked around the desk with the needle in hand. As he rolled back his sleeve revealing the dark mark, Hermione understood. She didn't know how she didn't see it before. The cure was the antidote for the poison within the mark. It was like a deadly tattoo. With their leader dead, the poison was seeping out, poisoning the recipients blood stream. That explained the Death Eater clients, and the secrecy. St. Mungo's refused to treat Death Eaters.

She sat on the edge of the desk, across from his chair. For a moment, she wondered if he realized the irony. Here he was, a pureblood, a Death Eater, a bully asking for help from a muggleborn, an order member, a recipient of his cruel taunts and slurs. Judging by his suspicion that she would sabotage the cure, he probably did. Hermione realized that she didn't have to sabotage it. He would be miserable enough with or without it. 

Grasping his forearm in the palm of her left hand, she muttered a cleansing spell. He was so tense. "You need to relax." He didn't respond.

"Hey, Malfoy!" she lightly smacked his arm startling him out of his concentration.

"What?"

"You're a shit quiditch player." It was the only thing she could think of that would distract him. Honestly, she had no idea if he were any good at quidich. However, it did the trick. She felt the tension leave his body. 

"That is _not_ true— Ow!" He hissed in pain as she slowly injected the needle into his left arm. His right arm grasped her left hand, and it stayed there until she removed the needle.

His eyes smarted. "It burns. It fucking burns! Is that supposed to happen?" He nursed his arm as he tried to get an answer from her. 

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

  


	8. Experiment IIB

Malfoy was, unfortunately, too ill to disapparate or floo home. The mark continued to burn, and he was in sheer misery. He had moved from the hard wood office chair to a plushy couch upon which he now lay.  A layer of sweat coated his forehead as the intensity of the burn had only increased. The skin around the mark was inflamed and blisters had begun to form. He insisted that Hermione stay with him until the anecdote ceased to burn.

"Do something!" he ordered through gritted teeth as he watched Hermione sit on a nearby chair reading.

"I have! I've already performed four cooling charms within the past 40 minutes, not to mention that I mixed up the salve for the blisters!" she huffed.

"I don't care if you've done four cooling charms, it still hurts—"

"Zero guarantee!" she reminded him. The glare he shot her was priceless. Even with his blonde hair glued to the side of his face with sweat, he looked intimidating. 

"It is your duty to do everything you possibly can to make sure that this works. The money I spent for this mugglefied-potion is probably more than your hut and Gringott's account combined!"

"My hut? No wonder you failed muggle studies." Muggles living in huts. Huh, that was a new one. 

He gave her a pointed look. "Failed? What are you talking about? It's not difficult to pass that class."

Hermione sighed. Okay, so maybe the curriculum was shit. Just look at Mr. Weasley's poor understanding of muggles. 

"I'm not a healer, Malfoy. My job is to do magical research and experimentation." 

"Then do a better job. It fucking hurts like hell. I'd cut my own arm off to stop the pain." His breathing became shallow. 

"Nothing is stopping you," Hermione muttered unsympathetically as she began the next chapter. It wasn't loud, but he heard her snide remark anyway.

"I don't have the energy to deal with you right now," he began as he closed his eyes. "But when I am better, I will hex you."

Hermione ignored his threat, and continued to read. From time to time, she would perform another cooling charm and give him a salve for the blisters.

Her boss stopped by to receive an update. The old witch was still in the same transfigured state as she was earlier. As Hermione described the progress to her boss, she noticed Draco staring at the transfigured witch. He looked mesmerized even in his pain-ridden state. 

Ha. What a fool. 

Hermione picked up his arm to see the mark more clearly. He yelped at the sudden contact. "Look," she said quietly to her boss. "It _is_ working." The mark had lost it's black pigment, and was now a medium grey color.

Even though the crone-in-disguise never said so, Hermione thought she looked pleased. "Stay with him until the burning stops. If there are any changes, let me know immediately," her boss instructed before she left the room to meet with another guest (suitor).

Several hours passed as the burning continued. Hermione began to feel a bit sorry for him. She continued to apply the cooling charms every 10 minutes, but that only did so much. He had stopped complaining and threatening her. Once he learned that the antidote was working, it seemed to shut him up. That was fine with her. She would continue her book. 

"What are you reading?" he finally asked after some time of silence. 

"It's a muggle book," Hermione informed him. "How's the burn?"

"It's—" He glanced down at his arm " lessening. Stings like a wasp though." Looking back at her, he persisted with his first question. "What's the book called?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment. He wouldn't know it anyway. "It's called Women in Love. There is a character who has the same name as me." 

"Are you alike?"

"No. Not at all."

He hesitated before asking his next question. "Are— are you the only one administering the potions?" He stared intently as if he were anxiously awaiting her reply. 

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. Would she be giving this antidote to every single Death Eater who payed enough? "I hope not," she answered honestly. 

"Is there _anyone_ else?" His emphasis on "anyone" annoyed her.

 "Why? Do you want the elves to make sure this works? I can leave right now, and you can be in their care!" Irritation seeped into her tone. 

"No, no, you're fine," he mumbled. His expression remained troubled as he lay on the couch.

When the burning finally stopped, Hermione examined the mark. It was now white. The outline remained, but the poison was gone. Her heart leaped with excitement, her antidote had worked; however, she still wasn't pleased with who would benefit from it.

"What does it feel like," she asked.

"Numb. It feels numb," he replied quietly as he flexed his scarred arm. As he gathered his wand and cloak to leave, he awkwardly paused as if he desperately wanted to say something.  

Hermione waited patiently, curious as to what he had to say. 

"I—" he let out a breath and averted his eyes. "I have to go," he muttered hastily as he flung the cloak over his shoulder. Hermione could hear his footsteps swiftly moving down the hall.

What had he wanted to say? Did he want to thank her? Apologize? Did he plan to insult her?

Hermione shook her head. His behavior was puzzling.  What was even more puzzling was the bouquet she received the next day.

An unfamiliar owl swooped into her home, and sat perched on a dining room chair with a bouquet of dark pink roses and a tiny scroll attached. When Hermione unfurled the parchment, it read: 

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_You have my sincerest gratitude._

_Cordially,_

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_

 Hermione stared in disbelief at the note. Her thumb traced the fancy flourish added to the signature. A thank you from Narcissa Malfoy. Who would've thought—

This world was really going mad. 


	9. Festivities

Narcissa Malfoy's thank you card was propped up next to an invitation to celebrate the engagement between Padma Patil and Hector Vikram. The bouquet of dark pink roses had wilted 9 days earlier, however, Hermione kept the card as tangible evidence that the proud Narcissa Malfoy apologized.

Not much had changed at her job. Draco Malfoy remained the only Death Eater she had injected with the antidote. Her boss charged a high price for the cure, and few could afford it after the war. The only Death Eater she came close to injecting was Yaxley. He had been on the run from the Ministry, although, he didn't look like the sort of person who was a fugitive. He was dressed neatly in dark blue robes. His hair was cut short and dyed a light brown color. After setting a sizable knapsack of galleons on the desk, he sat in the chair waiting for the potion vial. When the crone called Hermione in to give the injection, he refused to let her administer it. Instead, he demanded that he be given the antidote in the form of a potion vial.

"Give him what he asks," her boss ordered, disregarding the fact that the antidote's ingredients were far too potent to drink in potion form. This time, Hermione did not try to challenge the crone. She couldn't bring herself to care what would happen to him. She sealed the potion in the vial, and handed it over with a smile. A week later, she read The Prophet's front page story on how Yaxley's body was found in a seedy motel with an unknown substance. Guests who stayed in adjacent rooms described the agonizing screams they heard. It was the topic of the week at The Burrow. Harry and Ron discussed it at great length, unaware of 1/3 of the trio's invovlement. Ron speculated that Yaxley committed suicide with a Death-Cap Draught.

Her boss also assigned other projects besides the anecdote much to Hermione's relief. It remained in the research category, but varied in potions and transfiguration. The work was interesting, despite the fact that the projects were barely legal. 

* * *

Buried in research, Hermione forgot to check her social calendar. Before she knew it, it was the day of Padma's engagement party. "Shit," she cursed aloud to nobody in particular. "Shit, shit shit." She packed away her work for the day. She still hadn't bought robes for the party. Hermione had meant to buy them sooner, but for whatever reason, that never happened. 

Instead of apparating home, she went straight to Diagon Alley. Passing the shops, she paused in front of the display window of Twilfitt and Tattlings. The robes looked so chic. It was a favorite shop among wealthy pureblood witches. Hermione had never been inside. She didn't know of any muggle borns who shopped their either. Perhaps, it was time to change that. Hermione squared her shoulders with determination, and entered the store. 

Three elegant witches seated on the blue velvet couch were in the midst of trying on hats. A sales witch levitated whichever hats they wanted to try from the tall wooden shelves. When the three customers and sales witch noticed Hermione, their conversation became considerably quiet. Ignoring their hushed gossip, Hermione gingerly looked through racks of robes. Her heart was beating fast. She had not anticipated feeling this nervous, but what were they going to do? She won, damn it! How did Harry phrase it— she earned it! Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face the stares. "Excuse me, I need some help," she announced as clearly as she possibly could. The first sales witch she had seen helping the three witches remained where she was. A second sales witch, who was loitering in the back, cautiously stepped forward. 

"Yes, of course. What are you looking for Miss Granger," she asked. 

"I'm looking for something to wear to my friend's engagement party," Hermione explained. The rapid beating of her heart had slowed considerably since she first walked inside.

"Okay. I'll start a room for you, and pull some robes for you to try. I'm Cecilia Blackhart, by the way."

The robes Cecilia brought for Hermione to try were gorgeous. No wonder the high society witches preferred this shop. Wizarding fashion was a bit odd. It reminded Hermione of a mix of muggle 1930s-40s. She decided on a peach pink silk floor-length robe, and heels which Cecilia suggested. New customers who had entered the store while Hermione was changing paused to stare as she paid for her new robes. Was her presence really that surprising? Hermione wondered if she were the first muggle-born witch to shop at Twilfitt and Tattlings. Cecilia wrapped up the new purchase with a black satin ribbon. 

"Is she allowed to be here?" Hermione heard a witch whisper to her companion as she left the store. Muttering a jinx that was covered by the squealing of the door, the witch yelped in surprise as her heel slipped and became logged between the wooden floor boards. Hermione stepped into Diagon Alley before the witch could accuse her of anything. _Serves her right._   

Hermione flooed straight to The Burrow. She would change there. The trio made it a point of being each others dates. Ron decided he need a "proper date" to attend his one-time date's engagement party, so she would go with Harry. Susan Bones was Ron's date for the party.

When she stepped out of the floo she heard yelling from upstairs.

"—leave me alone!"

"I'll leave you alone when you stop fucking it up for the rest of us!" Ron's angrily shouted, and then Hermione heard a door slam. Oh boy. That didn't sound good. Hermione walked around the house. It didn't look like anyone else was home besides Harry and Ron. 

"Hello," she called. Ron poked his head over the stair railing. "Oh, hey 'Mione." 

"What was that all about," she asked, climbing the staircase. 

"Ask Harry," he responded shortly, not wanting to talk about it. He glanced at the package she was carrying. "What's that?" 

"My robes for the party. I was planning on changing in Ginny's room—"

"Did you go by yourself," he interrupted, staring at the branding on the wrapping paper.

"Yes?" Hermione was confused. "Why do you ask?"

"Tweedfit quiltings or whatever it's called had a no muggle-born policy only a year ago. The prophet did a bunch of stories on it."  

"I didn't know that. I guess it's no longer in place," she replied pensively. So that explained the reactions earlier. "Well, I'm going to get ready."

Hermione was pleased with her new robes as she twirled in front of the mirror. Glancing around the room, she thought Ginny's room looked exactly the same. The only difference was that Ginny was in Wales training for the Spring 2000 season with the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione wondered if Harry missed her. They had left their relationship unresolved, and Hermione wasn't sure if Harry had written so much as a letter.

_Knock! Knock!_

"Hermione, are you ready? Susan is here, and we're all ready to go," Harry asked from the other side of the door. His voice sounded muffled. 

"I'm just pining my hair. I'll be out in a minute!" Her hair was pulled together in a messy chignon. If curls escaped, at least, it would look intentional. Applying a brown lipstick, she was ready to go. 

"Harry? I'm ready," she said as she opened the bedroom door. 

"Wow— uh, Hermione, you look great! I'm glad you're my date tonight." He shot her a cheeky smile, but his eyes wandered to Ginny's room. Liar, she thought.  

* * *

The party was lively. The Patil family went all out for this celebration. The music blared throughout the house; the food smelled absolutely delicious; there was dancing in several the rooms; and one could not believe so many people could be packed into that house. It was a sizable home, but Hermione had to squeeze past people to make her way through the crowd. Harry and Hermione lost Susan and Ron within the first 3 minutes through the throng of people. 

"Geez, I never would have imagined there would be so many people," Hermione remarked as they tried to make their way into the living room to greet Padma and Parvati. 

"Me either. Who are all these people?" 

"Hmm... I see some familiar faces— Padma!" They had finally made their way into the room. It was mostly the immediate families getting to know one another.

"Oh, hi Hermione, Harry! Come meet my fiancé!" Padma smiled and motioned for Hector to join her. "Hector, this is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, my old school mates." He smiled congenially, and shook hands. "It's nice to meet you. I'm interested in meeting all of my fiancé's old school friends!"

Hector was a handsome man, and quite tall too. No wonder there was such a short dating period. 

The conversation ended shortly, because the aunties were constantly trying to pull Padma into various conversations. Hector pulled Harry into a conversation, and poured drinks. Abandoned by her date, for another man, Hermione searched for familiar faces. She soon found them by the food and dancing. Parvati was drinking.

"You're drinking as if it's a funeral," Hermione noted. Parvati rolled her eyes, and took another gulp.

"It is a funeral. A funeral of the family" Parvati moaned. "I hate Hector's family." Noticing Hermione's lack of food or drink, and she took it upon herself to mix up a drink for her friend.

"What's wrong with them?" 

Parvati slid the drink over. "They have annoying opinions. They change the whole family dynamic, and nothing is going to be the same anymore. So drink up," she ordered. 

"Yes ma'am." Hermione choked almost as soon as she took a sip. "Merlin, that is strong! What is that?" Parvati held up the bottle. "The finest, of course." 

"I think I'll wait till I've been here a bit longer, before I drink much more."

Parvati shrugged. "Your decision." 

"I'd rather not be shit-faced drunk within the first 30 minutes."

Parvati looked horrified at Hermione's statement. "Of course not! We'd miss the tarot card reading! And if there is a bad reading," A devious grin spread across her face, "The whole wedding might be called off!" 

Hermione laughed at her friend's reaction. "Okay, but you better drink some water to dilute the amount of alcohol you've already consumed. The substance you've been drinking tastes like battery acid."

"Like what?"

"Never mind." Hermione gathered two plates of food: one for Parvati, and one for herself. "Would they really call off the wedding if the reading is bad?"

"Absolutely. Especially, my parents." Just then, Lavender spotted them and waved excitedly. "Well, that's my cue," Hermione slid off the chair and picked up her glass to take with her. 

"You know, I wish you two would get along. Hogwarts was ages ago. You're not even with Ron, and neither is she. Can't you two become friends," Parvati pleaded.

"Nope," Hermione replied, popping the "p". "She pisses me off. I'll catch you later." Possessively holding the stem of her glass, Hermione wandered around the party. She saw many familiar faces, but not Cormac, which she noted with satisfaction.

"Hi Hermione." She turned around to be pleasantly surprised to see Neville. He looked handsome now, but still had the awkward mannerisms. "Hey!" She smiled broadly, and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the dance floor. "Let's dance!" 

"You look really different." He looked so cute trying to multitask dancing, and holding a conversation at the same time. 

"I should hope so. So what's new with you," she asked as she tried to get him to twirl her. 

"Uh— I'm in the auror training program right now." 

"And," she prompted.

"I don't think I like it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not crazy about my job either."

"Why not?" he looked curious. Their dancing slowed considerably in order to talk. 

"I have a nightmare boss. I don't really want to get in to it though. Tell me about you! What else is going on?"

He blushed a bit. "I think I met someone." Hermione's jaw dropped. "Don't tell me you're getting engaged too! It's too many, and too soon!" 

"No, no," he quickly reassured her. "It's not like that. We've only been on two dates. 

"Well, who is it?" she asked. 

"H—Hannah Abbott." 

"Aww! I bet you two are so cute, it's disgusting. Where is she?" Hermione craned her neck to spot Hannah. She found her. Hannah was leaning against the wall staring at Neville and Hermione with a jealous expression. "Oh. Neville, you better go explain things." She patted his arm, and left him to talk to his unofficial girlfriend. 

Wandering into another room, she saw the last person she thought she would see at the party: Blaise Zabini. He was just ending a conversation with someone she didn't know. She wasn't even aware that he was friends with Padma. "Blaise?" 

He glanced down at her. "Hermione," he acknowledged. He spoke with a lazy drawl. Somehow, it didn't seem right for him to use her first name.

"I didn't realize you were friends with Padma." 

"I'm not." Noticing her confused expression, he elaborated. "I'm here for Hector."

"Oh." 

"Hector's uncle was my mother's late husband." Oh. "In a way, we're family." What a sick group of twisted individuals. Hermione remembered the story of Blaise's mother. 

"You must have an enormous amount of cousins." Perhaps it was insensitive, but that was all Hermione could think of.

He smirked at her. He must have guessed what she was thinking. Well, he could shove a broomstick up his—

Suddenly, the candle light flickered off and on rapidly. 

"If I could have everyone's attention," a loud voice boomed, "the tarot reading is about to begin!"

Blaise followed Hermione into the reading room. 

A witch with a flamboyant hat sat at the round table. The cards were already spread across the table. Padma and Hector sat on opposite sides of the witch, and their immediate family joined them around the table. The rest of the guests crowded around the table to watch the reading. Hermione realized that Blaise was right behind her. 

"So what do you think of the engagement," she asked simply to make conversation as she watched the couple choose their cards.

"I don't have an opinion. I'm only showing up for support."

"I don't believe that one bit. You always have an opinion. Whether you voice it is another matter entirely."

"Well, you'll have to forgive my absence of comment. I'm in a precarious situation. Hector is my cousin, and I am partial to his choice." He paused before continuing. "Though, I wonder if Padma knew—" he paused before continuing. "That Hector was engaged to another witch only 4 months ago." 

"What?" She exclaimed a little louder than she intended as she turned to look at him. A woman next to her shushed her. Brushing the rebuke off, she processed the new information. "To whom," she whispered. 

"I shouldn't say," he had this annoying smile on his face. 

"Tell me," she demanded. 

"No, I don't think I shall." He backed away from her and disappeared into the crowd. When she turned to look at the tarot reading ceremony, she found that she had missed most of it. Everyone was celebrating, except for Parvati who had a sour expression on her face.

How dare Blaise dangle that delicious piece of information in front of her and snatch it away! What an irritating son-of-a bitch. No wonder he was friends with Malfoy back at Hogwarts. Hermione hoped he splinched himself. 

After the tarot card reading, there were multiple toasts. By the time the toasts and speeches had ended, Hermione felt quite tipsy. In no state to dance anymore, she spent the rest of the party talking to Harry, Seamus, Angelina, Susan, Ron, and Alicia. It was nice to catch up with DA members, even if they might not remember the next morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I re-wrote it three times. I didn't want to rush to post something that felt forced. I want this story to progress as naturally as possible. There are a few notes I want to make about this chapter. 
> 
> 1) Most Death Eaters are in Azkaban; however, there are a few on the run or simply have tricked the public into thinking they were neutral. Any Death Eater with a dark mark is dying from the poison.
> 
> 2) Everyone suffers from some sort of PSTD. It is just displayed in different ways. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed. I enjoy hearing your feedback. Thank you!


	10. Meddling

Saturday morning after the engagement party, Hermione was nursing a hangover with a greasy breakfast. She didn't have any ingredients to make a hangover potion, so breakfast sausage was the next-best-thing. An owl dropped off the mail and the latest Daily Prophet paper. Spreading out the paper on the table, she began to read. She was still in her pajamas.

  _Convicted Death Eater, Rodolphus Lestrange, dies in Azkaban!_

The article claimed he died due to declining mental and physical health. There was no mention of the dark mark's poison, although, Hermione didn't expect it to be mentioned anyway. Flipping through the pages, she saw that Padma and Hector's engagement party was mentioned in the society column on page 5. The moving picture showed the jubilation after the tarot card reading. Parvati was cropped out of the picture due to her lack of enthusiasm. 

_Ring Ring Ring!_

Hermione groaned. The ringing exacerbated her headache, and she had just begun reading page 6. "Hello?" Her voice sounded far more annoyed than she intended.

" _Somebody_ is grumpy this morning," a familiar voice snarked. Hermione rolled her eyes. "What's up Andrea?"

"Well, you will never guess who I ran into this morning—" Andrea paused, waiting for a reaction which never came.

"Gee, who?" Hermione could hear her cousin huff at her sarcastic response.

"I don't know why I bother trying to help you! God, you're too much! I called to tell you that I ran into one of my old freshman professors!" 

"Okay? Where is this story going?"

"I told him about you, you dimwit! What is wrong with you this morning? You sound hungover or something."  Hermione wisely remained silent after that.

"Anyway, he is willing to meet with you. If he likes you, he'll put in a good word for you when you apply for the spring semester. The meeting is set up for next Tuesday at that little coffee shop. You know the one, two blocks from campus? We went there last time you visited."

Hermione winced. How was she supposed to get out of this without offending her cousin?

"Andrea, that's sweet of you, but—"

"No!" Andrea interrupted. "You are not backing out of this. Two o'clock next Tuesday at the little coffee shop near campus. I'll pick you up at 1:00. God, you are so lucky you have me to look out for you." 

"I can't just go! I'm working on Tuesday," Hermione protested. She doubted the old crone give her the time off if she took off after lunch to visit a muggle university professor. The crone dictated when Hermione would arrive and when she would leave. There were few exceptions. 

"Take a sick day. I don't care. See you next week," and with that, Andrea hung up, leaving no room for argument. 

Hermione wanted to scream with frustration. Her well-meaning cousin did not understand how difficult she was making it for her. 

* * *

 A few hours later, the hangover had left, but the pajamas had not. Today would be a movie day. Half way into _10 Things I Hate About You_ , the ring pinched her finger so tightly she swore. "Oh, for fucks sake! It's Saturday." She rushed to her bedroom to change into her robes. Anything to make that awful squeezing and pinching stop. 

When she apparated in front of the gates, they were already swung wide open. She ran down the path into the house, looking for the crone. She was slightly out of breath by the time the pinching stopped. She found her boss inside the main office. She was not disguised today. Hermione thought she looked tired. On her boss' desk lay the newspaper article about Rodolphus Lestrange's death.

"Wha—" Hermione began to ask, but the crone shook her head. "Prepare two antidotes," she ordered. "Make a fresh batch. The old one expired." Two antidotes?

"Of course," she quickly responded. She had an odd feeling that she was being watched. As Hermione turned to survey the room, she realized that all three Malfoys were present. Hermione furrowed her brows. The air seemed very tense. 

Draco looked determined. He stood next to his father holding an ornate wand. Hermione did not recall him using it in Hogwarts, so she supposed it was Lucius' wand. Narcissa, although her expression betrayed no emotion, Hermione noticed that she clutched the arm of the chair so tightly, her knuckles were white. 

Shifting her gaze to Lucius, he appeared uncharacteristically silent, and almost, unaware of the tense atmosphere. Hermione realized that he was under the imperius curse. His wife and son were flanked on either side of the couch, as if they were his body guards. 

The sound of a house elf entering pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. She quickly exited the room in order the start the brew. Luckily, she had pre-washed her ingredients not two days ago. While she waited for the potion to mature, she thought of the three Malfoys in the opposite wing of the castle. Hermione wondered which one would receive the injection first. Narcissa or Lucius? 

Suddenly, she realized she wouldn't be able to give Lucius the injection while under the imperius curse. How do you help someone who doesn't want help? _Remember what you did to your own parents, a snide voice in the back of her mind whispered._ "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up," she repeated furiously to herself over and over again aloud.

The potion brewed much faster than she would have liked, and before she knew it, it had matured and was ready to be transferred from the cauldron into the shots. 

Carrying the two needles back to the main office, her heart pounded with dread. This was not going to be an easy task. Had Malfoy really cast an imperius on his own father?

Opening the door, she saw that Narcissa had not budged from her perch on the ottoman next to her husband. She was smoothing the hair away from his face. Draco, however, paced the floor.

"Who should I inject first," Hermione asked. Her eyes flickered between mother and son.

It was Narcissa who answered her question. "Lucius. Lucius shall go first."  Her voice did not waver. She spoke firmly and held her head high, despite the unease. 

Hermione inwardly cringed at the thought of injecting Lucius. 

"Before I begin, I should tell you that for the antidote to work, there cannot be any interfering substances, spells, or transfigurations. If anything interferes, there is a high chance of the potion becoming fatal," Hermione informed them. 

Draco paled. His face matched the color of his mother's white knuckles. His pacing halted right in front of her. "Granger, a word," he asked just above a whisper. Hermione followed him out of the room and into the hallway. He looked conflicted on how to begin, so she stood and waited. With a flick off his wand, he cast a _muffilato_. 

"Is there _anyone_ else?"

The question took Hermione by surprise. So _that_ was what he was referring to the last time he asked the same question. He was asking for his father. 

"It's just me. You know that," she replied. He sighed, and pulled at the knot of his tie as if it were strangling him.

"Did you _imperio_ your father," she asked hesitantly, looking into his eyes, but he quickly averted them. He ignored her question, but his silence spoke for him.

"Malfoy—" His gaze snapped from the floor back to her face. His eyes hardened, mistaking her curiosity for judgment. "You can _not_ judge me for this! And I don't fucking care if it's an unforgivable!" He spoke passionately, meaning every word. "He wouldn't have come if I hadn't—" He couldn't even finish the sentence.

"I'm not going to let my parents die from a curable poison." Suddenly, he covered his face with his hands. His composed mask was slipping. "Oh Merlin, you don't understand what it's going to be like if I lift the curse. And Mother—" he looked up with such a defeated expression. "I didn't tell her how I convinced Father to come here today," his voice sounded hoarse as he whispered the last part. "She will only take it if he does too."

For once, Hermione didn't hold his anger against him. She didn't blame him for the imperio. She would be a hypocrite if she did. Instead, she felt his anguish. Suddenly, she realized he was speaking to her. 

"—I'll have to hold him down, and you'll have to help me. Mother can't be the same room—"

"What if he curses me," Hermione interrupted his plans. Malfoy winced. "I'll shield you from curses and hexes. I don't think he'll be capable of casting wandless curses through the pain. Trust me, I know." 

Hermione nodded. Truth be told, she was half listening now. She didn't care about Malfoy's parents, she was thinking of her own. A tear rolled down the side of Hermione's cheek. She hadn't even realized she was crying. Malfoy's situation her of her own which she was still dealing with. All she could think about was the cost of her meddling. 

"Are you crying," he asked incredulously, unaware of the tears that began to roll down his own cheeks. 

She shook her head furiously. "Not for you." She didn't cry for Draco Malfoy. 

* * *

They were unable to convince Narcissa to leave the room. She insisted on being present the entire time. 

"I think I should know what I'm getting myself into," Narcissa stated firmly as Draco pleaded with her to wait in another room. "I'm not leaving, Draco. Just drop it." 

"Yes, Mother," he acquiesced reluctantly. Hermione already had a rope conjured. Realizing there was nothing else left to do, he raised his wand, lifting the _imperio._

Hermione heard Narcissa gasp. "Oh Draco! I thought you had done something, but the imperius curse?" She sounded so disappointed. As soon as the curse had lifted and Lucius regained his free will, he began shouting expletives. Draco tackled his father down to the floor in attempt to bind him in the rope.  Hermione watched as the father and son struggled on the floor.  

Lucius was by no means a frail old man. He punches were strong. Draco took several heavy blows to his face and stomach, but he remained focused on tying the rope. 

"Draco! Untie me at once!" Lucius demanded once his hands and arms were bound. His legs were still kicking. "If you don't, I will blacken your name from our tree!" he screamed.

Draco tied his father's feet together as he ignored the threats. 

"GIVE ME MY FUCKING WAND!" Lucius roared. In his anger, he was unable to wandlessly cast accurate hexes and curses.

Once the knots were secure, Malfoy grabbed the newspaper and shoved it in his father's face. "I'M DOING THIS FOR YOU! WITHOUT HER POTION, YOU'LL DIE! THE CAUSE IS OVER, AND IT'S KILLING YOU!" He was screaming at the top of his lungs. His whole body was shaking. "You can punch me, cut me off, hex me, whatever; but, you're taking this anecdote. Excuse me if I don't want my father to die."

Lucius was not pleased with his son's attempt to save him. "NARCISSA!"

Draco whipped around and warned his mother not to intervene. 

"Draco, darling, it's his choice! I was supportive of your choice. Why can't you be supportive of his?" his mother pleaded. 

Malfoy was at his wits end. "Why don't you see? Why can't either of you understand? Mother, the poison will kill you too! It's sucking the life out of both of you. Don't lie to me, I know you know it. You want to talk about choice, but I was never given a choice!" 

"NARCISSA! UNTIE ME SO I CAN END YOUR SON!" Lucius continued to scream, refusing to acknowledge his paternity. His hair was caught inside the binds of the rope. Just then, he caught sight of Hermione holding the needle. 

"I don't want your fucking toad oil, Mudblood," he spat. 

Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she pressed her lips together and injected the needle directly into the mark. Almost immediately, the ranting stopped. Lucius did not complain of the pain or burn. He hissed threats through gritted teeth periodically. His face seemed to be contorted in a permanent rage. She cast cooling charms every 10 minutes; and, Malfoy applied the blister salve to his father's mark for her. He ignored his own blood trickling down the side of his face as he dealt with his father's pain.

Narcissa remained neutral, doing nothing to assist her son or her husband.  

Several hours later, the mark began to fade. Lucius' breathing became shallow, and he began to panic. "Bring it back! Draco, you stop this immediately! BRING IT BACK! It's an honor, it's a honor!" 

Malfoy tried to pacify his father as best he could, but he couldn't be soothed. Lucius was becoming even more hysteric. 

"You'll lose everything! You're place in society, our family's fortune! Do you want our magic stolen? The mudbloods will use you as a slave for their new world order! NARCISSA TALK SOME SENSE INTO THE BOY!" Suddenly, he groaned. "Oh, FUCKING TROLL SHIT! When will the burn stop?" 

The burn did stop two hours later. Lucius had worn himself out. He lost his voice during the screaming, and he was now sleeping. The injection was successful.

Narcissa was visibly shaken. When Hermione brought the second needle over to her, ready to inject, she refused.  "I've witnessed enough today." Glaring at her husband and son, she rebuked them. "I'm severely disappointed in both of you. You are enough to tear a woman's heart out." Saying what she had to say, she walked out. "Mother, please don't do this—" Draco implored as he began to follow her.

"Please stop, Draco. I'm going home." 

Malfoy stared down the hall as his mother departed. The clicking of her heels echoed down the winding corridors. 

"I'm sorry Malfoy," Hermione told him sincerely. "I hope everything works out in the end." 

He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, me too. How did everything become such a mess?"

 Hermione didn't answer, because she didn't know how to. How _did_ everything become such a mess? She looked closely at Malfoy. He had dried blood smeared on the side of his face. An ugly bruise was already forming. 

"What?" he asked as he noticed her staring. 

She motioned towards his face. "You've got blood—"

"Hmm? Oh." He shrugged dismissively. Hermione conjured a damp cloth. "Here," she offered. 

Accepting the cloth, he wiped his face clean of the blood and sweat. "Thanks." He leaned against the wall as he contemplated the situation. "In a single day, I've managed to destroy my relationship with both of my parents. I did it for them, for their own good, and they despise me for it." He began to laugh at the irony. It sounded hallow and sad. "Are you going to report me?" he asked. 

"No. Sometimes, I think, there are exceptions." 

He snorted at her answer. "You have strange views." 

"For a muggle born?" she asked, prompting him to finish. She half-expected the answer to be "mud blood".

"For a Gryffindor," he corrected. "Well, I'll be back with my mother in a few days." He straightened to his full height, and wished her a pleasant rest of the weekend. Surprisingly, Hermione didn't think it sounded sarcastic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter. The one thing Andrea, Hermione, and Draco all have in common in this chapter is making tough decisions with another person's best interest at heart. 
> 
> (1 Andrea risks Hermione's irritation to make sure she gets a good education. She doesn't have the whole story, and she may be a bit condescending, but she does want her cousin to succeed in life. 
> 
> (2 Hermione remembers the difficult decision to obliviate her parents. Her meddling had a costly price, but she had the best of intentions. 
> 
> (3 Draco risks being burned off his family tree tapestry, which includes, financial disownment, and a severing of trust in order to prevent his parents from dying.


	11. Watched

It was Tuesday, and Draco had not returned with his mother as he said he would. His absence told her that he had not been successful in convincing his mother to take the antidote. She wondered if he would ever be able to mend his relationship with his father. Once she arrived to work that morning, Hermione had little time to think of the Malfoys. 

Someone had breached the wards of the castle Monday night. Hermione reasoned that it must have been a Death Eater, because the only thing stolen was the leftover antidote made on Saturday. The night before, the cauldron had been half full, and was set to expire three days after maturity. Now, it was gone. The laboratory was a mess. A cauldron was dented, glass vials were smashed, the anecdote was partially spilled on the floor, and precious ingredients were carelessly strewn about the counter and floor, rotting without a chilling spell.

The crone was furious. Swearing with a loud and colorful vocabulary, she vowed revenge. Every house elf was working to restore the lab to functional use.

"The needles weren't stolen. The person will probably drink the potion," Hermione cajoled. She knew it was an awful thing to say, but it was true. And when her boss wasn't happy, nobody was happy.

It seemed to work. The colorful swearing decreased, and the crone adopted a smug smirk at the thought of reading about the thief's demise in the next edition of The Daily Prophet.

"Hundreds of galleons wasted," the old witch griped. "Not to mention, my PEACE OF MIND!" she shrieked when she stepped on a piece of broken glass.

Hermione put herself to work, counting the inventory. She supposed it was not the best time to ask for a few hours off. She was supposed to be meeting with Andrea's former professor that afternoon. Luckily, she soon found that she didn't need to ask.

The crone quilled a grocery list, and sent her out the door not specifying when she expected Hermione to return.

"Do you want me to report the theft?" Hermione asked before she left. 

"No. Our thief will be dead before they are able to catch him," the witch decided. "What would be the use?"  

* * *

Because of that ~~fortunate~~ turn of events, Hermione sat across from Dr. Davis, Andrea's former professor, in a coffee shop only forty minutes later. It was a quaint little shop. It had a rustic-chic sort of vibe, leaning more on the rustic side than chic; however, it was the perfect little nook for studying and it stayed open late. Hermione sighed with contentment. It was such a nice, pleasant atmosphere compared to the chaotic place she worked.

Dr. Davis was a pleasant man who wore glasses. He was in excellent health for his age. Hermione guessed he was at least 65. He shared an anecdote how he refused to retire, because teaching biochemistry was too much fun to quit. Hermione sipped a cappuccino as she listened. He asked her a few personal questions about her education and family. After Hermione had answered, she realized that he already had a vague idea from whatever it was that Andrea told him. She was glad he didn't pry. 

She accepted his offer to give her a tour of the campus. It was peaceful, it was almost therapeutic to explore the campus grounds. Summer courses had just begun, so the campus was not as crowded as it might have been during winter. Dr. Davis explained the history of certain buildings, the biographies of founders whose statutes they passed, and gave her a glimpse of his classroom lab/office. His office was mostly plain, preferring few trinkets to decorate his desk and shelves. On his desk, there was a single photograph of a man who appeared to be a similar age to Dr. Davis. Hermione guessed he was a lover, though, she never asked. 

The clock struck three o'clock. Andrea was, mostly likely, looking for her at the coffee shop. Andrea had dropped her off, wisely deciding not to eavesdrop three tables away once she accidentally let it slip that her boyfriend had moved into her apartment.

Before she said goodbye to Dr. Davis, he encouraged her to apply and offered to write a letter of recommendation on her behalf. Hermione was grateful, but she still had no plans on applying. On the drive back to Hermione's house, Andrea pressed for details. 

"So? How did it go?" Andrea asked. She was trying to drive and analyze her cousin's expression simultaneously. The result was extremely poor driving. 

"It went well. He's really nice. He told me about the school, showed me around campus, and offered to write me a letter of recommendation."

"Oh! That's a good sign," Andrea exclaimed as she swerved in front of another car, missing the bumper by inches. "Aren't you glad I set this up?" 

"Yes," Hermione replied unenthusiastically as she fiddled with the ring on her finger. 

Andrea sighed dramatically. As she pulled in front of Hermione's house, she imparted some advice. "Look, I know you're not thrilled about any of this, but sweetie, you need some normalcy. You shouldn't be spending your time dealing with selling the dental practice, and sorting through wills. You're in that house all day. It's depressing—"

"Hey, I do work!" Hermione protested. 

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Oh, so everything is solved then!" she exclaimed sarcastically.  "Look, just think about it," she pleaded. "I'm trying to help you." 

Hermione agreed begrudgingly before she got out of the car. Andrea waved before speeding away.

As she walked up the path to her front door, she saw two little boys hiding near the front window. She had seen them before riding their bikes in the neighborhood. They had to be no older than 9. They were crouched on the ground with a spy kit for kids equipped with all sorts of little gadgets. 

"No!" one kid whined. "It's weird! Don't you think it's weird she doesn't ever leave?"

"How do you know she never leaves?" the other kid asked doubtfully.

"Use the walkie talkies! You're the red, I'm the yellow, remember? And because! It's common sense, Lenny. The grownups died, the car is never used, we never see any people visit, and she never comes outside. That can only mean one thing: the suspect is a vampire. 

"Do you think the grownups were vampires too?" Lenny asked, considering the theory. 

"No— wait! Oh dude, what a plot twist! Write that down in the detective journal."

"Alright," Lenny agreed as he began to write it down.

"I heard mum talking about her, I mean, the suspect last night. You know what she said? She said that owls only fly to this house. They don't go to any of the other houses, only hers. Mum thinks it's a symbol of death so write that down too," the other kid, whose name Hermione did not know, added.

Hermione watched the two little kids play detective about her life. It was sort of funny, but Hermione wondered if her routine was that conspicuous. She hadn't thought anything more of the owls, but it didn't look like her neighbors had forgotten.  Hermione rolled her eyes. What silly little kids. They still hadn't noticed her standing almost directly behind them. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked, announcing herself loudly. The two little boys were so startled that one of them let out a little scream before sprinting off her front lawn. Hermione watched them flee. Maybe her routine was more obvious now that she was the only person living in the house. Hermione found it troubling to know that her neighbors were watching her closely. 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hermione began checking off the items off the grocery list one by one.

~~Cauldron~~

~~Fire seeds~~

~~Bat wings~~

~~Mandrakes~~

~~Leeches~~

~~Castor Oil~~

~~Lily of the Valley bulbs~~

Stonefish venom

When Hermione tried to purchase Stonefish venom, an apprentice at The Apothecary informed her that this particular venom was not sold in Diagon Alley, but at Shyverwretch's Venoms and Poisons in Knockturn Alley. Not one to procrastinate, Hermione swiftly walked through the alley in search of the venom and potion shop.

The alley was in need of cleaning badly. Unused potions were casually dumped on the street creating a fire hazard. The alley had an overall rancid smell.  Prostitution was conducted openly. A witch stood on the balcony in a room above the Spiny Serpent. She was dressed as a victorian prostitute and posed as if she were on display of a shop window. A small crowd stood below. Several sacks of galleons were levitated within her reach. Hermione watched as the woman reached over the balcony, grasping the largest sack. The smaller sacks were immediately returned down to the rejected bidders.  Moments later, she disappeared inside, presumably followed by chosen wizard or witch.

Turning the corner, Hermione found the Venom and Poison shop. It was dimly lit, and it need of some wood repair. Poisons and venoms stacked the shelves. It was as if the store were a little library of poisons. Hermione thought it was a coding hazard. 

The Stonefish venom wasn't particularly hard to find. It was on the shelf nearest to the checkout desk. An old wizard sat behind the desk. He flashed an unctuous smile at his new customer. Hermione soon learned that he was Mr. Shyverwretch in the flesh.

"Why I must say, I have the most unexpected of customers!" he exclaimed as he tallied up the cost, not batting an eyelash at her purchase. Hermione then realized how stupid she had been not to disguise herself. She inwardly groaned. Imagine the headline in The Witch Weekly:

_Harry Potter's best friend, Hermione Granger, purchases venom in Knockturn Alley!_

"It's— uh, not for me," she babbled nervously.

 _Shut the fuck up, Hermione!_ Great, now she just implied that she was planning on slipping this to someone else! 

"Of course not, Miss Granger," he replied. "That will be 5 galleons." 

Sliding over the money, she noticed a dark blue tinted jar labeled "Donations" on the desk.

Mr. Shyverwretch noticed her curiosity. "Ah, here at my little shop, we are happy to work with any customer. Some of our happy clients are extremely generous and wish to offer a little donation to thank us for our— erm what is the word— discretion."

Hermione promptly pulled out extra galleons, and dropped them in the jar.

"You are too kind," he replied as he wrapped up the little bottle of venom in plain brown paper. 

"You have a much larger selection of poisons and venoms than I expected," Hermione remarked as she watched him tie the ribbon.

"We sell out each week," he told her as he handed her the package. "Do come again," he called as she exited the shop.

They sell out each week? Hermione shuddered. Were people really buying that much venom and poison? What a disturbing thought.

Making here way out of the alley, Hermione stared at the display windows. 

One shop had a muddy window pane obscuring the display from view. Venturing closer, Hermione realized they were shrunken heads. The sign read Noggin and Bonce. Hermione was familiar with shrunken heads. The Knight Bus had one, so did The Three Broomsticks, but there was something particularly creepy about the shrunken head on the far right of the display. Hermione couldn't put her finger on it. What was different? Peering through the dirty window, Hermione realized she knew exactly where she had seen that face. It was the shrunken head of the transfigured Death Eater. It recognized her at the same time she did, suddenly it began screaming "MURDER! BETRAYAL!" MURDER!"

Hermione jumped back frightened. The door of the shop opened from the inside, and Hermione did not want to wait any longer so she took off running. She did not stop until she was well out of sight of Knockturn Alley. Using the nearest floo, she returned to the castle. The laboratory was scrubbed clean and put back in order. The elves immediately began putting the new purchases away. 

She found the crone in the greenhouse. She was tending her prized Formatorgia. Removing her dragon hide gloves, she scrutinized Hermione's appearance with her beady eyes. 

"It has been nearly four hours since you've left. Did you have to wait for the plants to finish growing?" she asked sardonically. 

Hermione's cheeks flushed. So her disappearance had been noticed. "No ma'am."

The old witch huffed. "Oh, never mind. That's all for today." She dismissively waved Hermione away. 

"Wait," Hermione interjected. 

"What?" her boss snapped. 

"When I was leaving Knockturn Alley, I passed Noggin and Bonce, you know, the shop that sells shrunken heads? I saw the head of the transfigured death eater in the window," Hermione explained. The crone kept a stoic expression. "So?"

Hermione swallowed. "It recognized me, and caused a racket."

The crone's nod was almost indiscernible. "Alright, I'll send an elf to get rid of it." Once again, she shooed Hermione away, and this time, Hermione left.

* * *

 That evening, the trio was reunited at a little hole-in-the-wall (literally) pub. Hermione watched distastefully as Ron proceeded to eat a large bowl of jellied eels. Harry didn't seem to mind Ron's choice of food as he ate his own food.

"Of all the places to eat, we come here," she complained. 

"S'not so bad," Ron said as he munched. 

"Are you sure you don't want to order something?" Harry asked. "It's a perfectly respectable place. It's clean as hell!"

"Oh, well in that case," she answered dryly. "I can't believe you wouldn't try sushi, but you eat jellied eels!" 

"That's completely different! You tried to get me to eat raw fish!" Ron exclaimed. "Not to mention that spicy green stuff that made my nose burn all night!"

Harry guffawed at the memory. 

"That's because you aren't supposed to eat the whole dollop of wasabi by itself!" Hermione told him exasperated. 

"How was I supposed to know? Muggles eat weird shit, no offense. And it's not _that_ funny," Ron grumbled. "Stop laughing!" 

Harry held his hands up in mock surrender after Ron elbowed his stomach. "Alright, alright. We can talk about something else."

The table remained void of conversation for nearly a minute. 

"So, how's training?" Hermione asked at last. 

"Neville quit," Harry announced. 

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione's reaction. "Oh don't look surprised! I mean, come on, it's Neville!"

"Don't be mean! He's awkward, not dumb," she shot back. "But I'm not surprised," she admitted. "Neville said he was unhappy with training at Padma's party." 

"Really?" Harry asked. "He didn't say anything to us."

Hermione shrugged. "I doubt he would to someone in the program. What do you think he's going to do now?" she wondered.

"No idea," Ron replied before changing the subject. "What did you do today?"

"I visited a muggle university," Hermione announced. 

Harry frowned in confusion. "I didn't know that was something you're interested in." 

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"It's a school for adult muggles. It trains people for whatever careers they want to pursue," Hermione explained. 

"Why do you want to train for a muggle career?" Ron asked again, ignoring his food for once.

"I haven't definitely decided to go. It's just that—" Hermione sighed before continuing. "My family wants me to go. They think it's strange that I'm not already enrolled. My cousin has been checking up on me almost every other week. They've been worried. Anyway, my cousin set up a meeting for me with one of her old professors. Honestly, I think the school is great, and it's such a nice contrast to everything else right now. It's peaceful, and a motivating environment." She began to laugh. "Imagine going to school without having life threatening events occur each year!"

Ron shook his head. "Nope, can't picture it." 

"Neither can I," Harry added.

"I'm just confused. My contract ends in 10 months, can you believe it? I don't know what I'm going to do after that. Maybe I'll go to university, or maybe I'll look for a new job here. It's only an option," Hermione explained.  

Harry and Ron listened without interrupting. 

"Well, we'll support you either way, won't we?" Harry said turning to Ron. 

"Yeah," Ron replied somberly. He still wasn't quite over the fact that the three of them wouldn't be aurors fighting crime together. Suddenly, he perked up. "Oh! Remember Yaxley?" he asked.

"How could I forget?" Hermione replied. 

"We received a tip that another Death Eater was found with the same substance Yaxley had!" he told her excitedly. 

"Who was it?" Hermione asked.  

"Rookwood! He committed suicide with that vile potion," Ron told her.

"Unfortunately, we aren't on the teams investigating Rookwood or Yaxley. Though, I was told that the potion was absolutely foul to smell," Harry said.  

"How do you know he committed suicide?" Hermione asked. 

"Why else would anyone take that stuff? You'd have to want to die in order to drink it!" Ron reasoned. 

Hermione almost laughed. "Oh, good point," she replied with an amused grin. 

"What if he didn't commit suicide? What if someone poisoned him?" Harry wondered. 

"Man, I'd love to be on that investigation team." Ron responded wistfully. 

Hermione's blood turned cold.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, at last! This chapter was particularly difficult to write. I erased two drafts before editing this one. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments. You have no idea how encouraging it is to read your feedback. 
> 
> Theme for this chapter: a stark contrast between the wizarding and muggle world. 
> 
> (1 Hermione's neighbors know something is strange. They just don't know what, and they are too unimaginative to figure it out, minus the little kids. 
> 
> (2 The university is a tempting option. I am leaving it untitled. It's up to you to decide which university she attends. Also, Andrea demonstrates what Hermione could be like. She has a great deal of freedom, and is mostly drama free. She lives in her own apartment, is excited about life, and is everything Hermione's family expects of her.
> 
> (3 Death Eaters are still dying without the anecdote. Some are desperate, such as Rookwood. 
> 
> P.S. If you google pictures of Stonefish, they are absolutely horrid to look at. Be warned.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed.


	12. Unpleasantries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been about a month since my last update. Check out my previous chapter if you've forgotten what happened last. Thank you!

Talk of investigations of Rookwood and Yaxley kept Hermione on edge. She was worried that she might be in trouble. She hadn't intended to do anything wrong, but that would be a poor defense, at best, in court. * _Ignorantania juris non excusat._

Honestly, Hermione wasn't sure if she had done anything wrong. To be on the safe side, she went to Flourish and Blotts to find a book on Wizarding Law; however, there were none to be found. The store manager informed her that they did not keep any law books in stock, but one could be ordered. Hermione agreed, and paid the fee. 

"The book will be owled to you within the next few days," the manager congenially told her. 

Hermione nodded. "I'll keep a look out for it. Thank you." She made her way down the narrow street in search of the nearest floo. She was just in time. The ring began to pinch and squeeze. The wind blew escaped curls in her face. Other witches clutched their hats to keep it from flying off their heads. It had been threatening to storm all week.

Flooing directly to the old castle, Hermione did not find the crone in any of the usual places. She gritted her teeth in frustration. Her poor finger was sore from the squeezing and pinching! Climbing the stairs to the only tower she had not yet looked, Hermione realized that this must be the old witch's personal living suite. She had never been in that part of the castle before. The stairs led to a living room which overlooked a roof top garden. The French doors of the terrace were open to allow the fresh air inside. With each breeze, the sweet scent of lilac, which perfumed the surrounding area, grew more potent. A few candles were lit in mid-morning due to the stormy grey horizon. The flames flickered with the breeze. 

 Hermione spotted the crone lounging on the terrace. She was watching the upcoming storm. With a book in her lap titled  _Lost Potions Throughout the Ages_ , and a blanket draped over her legs, the crone reminded Hermione of an old woman who used to live in the same nursing home as her own late grandmother. Harmless, right?

The moment Hermione stepped onto the terrace, the ring stopped its incessant squeezing. The old witch tilted her head in Hermione's direction, and greeted her with a slight nod.

"Don't you want to come inside? It's going to rain," Hermione said.

"I am well aware," The grumpy old woman responded cooly. She summoned a scroll from her living room. It shot through the open French doors into her outstretched hand. "I don't wish to see anyone today. I want to be left alone. This is a list of what needs to be done." 

"Of course." Hermione took the scroll. "Is there anything else you need?" she asked before leaving.

The old witch flicked her hand.  "Don't worry about me. Just do your job." Her piercing blue eyes took one last look at Hermione, before returning to her book. 

Taking one last look at the view, Hermione left the crone to her solitude. She unpinned her hat, and descended the stairs to begin her work. The absence of the crone gave Hermione a sense of freedom to sleuth the situation. _Just who the fuck was this woman?_ Deciding the office was the best place to begin, Hermione sat behind the desk and dug through the drawers.  She read through scrolls, calendars, and anything she could find.

She did, however, find a ledger containing a list of names and addresses. Hermione quickly copied the names down with a charmed quill. The rest of the items in the desk weren't worth noting. Hermione strolled through the library, paying close attention to the book titles. For she had a theory about books: books revealed the inner-parts of the mind, as far as Hermione was concerned. Types of books could tell you someone's likes and dislikes, their interests, dreams, goals, and weaknesses. Books were read for a reason. 

The books were proof that the crone was no stranger to dark magic. The old witch possessed books about necromancy, and several cursed books which Hermione dared not touch. She had extensive knowledge about herbology, potions, and astronomy. The most unexpected piece of information Hermione learned was that the old witch was in Hufflepuff. It was the only book about a Hogwarts house in the whole library. 

_POP!_

An elf interrupted her snooping. It was the same little elf who rejected Hermione's hat. It still didn't like her, and Hermione knew it. 

"A visitor," the elf announced as it glared as if it knew Hermione had been snooping. "Madame Narcissa Black Malfoy"

"Thank you!" Hermione told the little elf with a smile. The little elf grimaced and turned to leave, but it appeared to have a change of heart. It hopped onto the shelf, and pulled out an unmarked black leather book which it place into Hermione's hands.

"What is this?' she asked looking suspiciously at the book. Usually, books lacking a title were cursed. The elf said nothing as it stood on one of the shelf planks staring at her. Why that malicious little shit! "I'm not reading a cursed book," Hermione answered more harshly than she would've liked; but, she lost her patience, and shoved the book back into shelf. 

The creature grinned before disapparating out of her sight. 

Great! Look at what you've done, she scolded herself. Feeling a bit ashamed in her behavior, Hermione left the library to fill a syringe for Mrs. Malfoy. The last batch was still fresh. There was no need to inquire why Mrs. Malfoy was there. Hermione already knew that the woman loved her son too much to refuse the cure no matter how angry she might be. Once the syringe was filled, Hermione made her way down the winding corridor to meet with Mrs. Malfoy. 

Pushing the heavy wooden door of the office open, Hermione discovered Mrs. Malfoy primly seated on the couch. The witch rose gracefully to greet Hermione.

"Hello Mrs—" Hermione began, but Mrs Malfoy placed a cool kiss on her cheek as if they were the best of friends. Startled, Hermione looked at Mrs. Malfoy strangely, unable to formulate the rest of her greeting. 

"I was hoping I might speak with you," Mrs. Malfoy said in a soothing tone with her hand on Hermione's arm. "Please, sit," she gestured Hermione to sit across from her as if she were in her own living room extending an invitation to a guest. Her behavior was a far cry from the last meeting. No signs of unease were displayed this time. She spoke in a mellifluous tone that made one forget the purpose one was speaking. Every movement was the epitome of elegance and control. 

Hermione fought the urge to wipe her cheek. She saw what the woman was trying to do. Mrs. Malfoy was trying to regain whatever control of the situation she had. She was playing the grand madame. The aristocratic witch with the power to elevate or sink a poor soul, if she felt like it, of course. This tête-à-tête over tea was power play. So, she sat and waited for Mrs. Malfoy to speak.

 "It is a pity that it has taken so long for us to have a proper conversation," Mrs. Malfoy began. "You have done exceedingly well at Hogwarts. You should be proud."

"Thank you," Hermione said a bit stiffly. ~~Small talk made her feel ill at ease.~~ No, small talk with Mrs. Malfoy made her feel ill at ease.

"It's interesting that you chose to work here, instead of The Ministry," Mrs Malfoy remarked. "Although, I can certainly understand why you would prefer this place."

Could she, Hermione thought dryly. "Why do you say that?" Hermione asked feeling curious.

Mrs. Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Ravens above! You sly bird! You don't miss an opportunity, do you?" she exclaimed with a nod of approval. "Well, I'll indulge you, just this once." She laughed as if she and Hermione shared an inside joke. Although, Hermione wanted to state that she was not fishing for compliments, she held her tongue. 

"The Ministry has some excellent positions; however, they are rare and difficult to come by. But, I'm sure you you already know that. Most positions are almost meaningless with no true purpose other than mindless scroll shuffling for a small stipend. The departments are in a state of perpetual hebetude, and there is little room for imagination, especially with the budget cuts. But, you— _you_ saw past all of that. The others are blinded by naïveté. They believe that they can change the world by working their way up the political ladder. Their skills are wasted on mind numbingly boring tasks, until they finally wake up and realize they are middle aged, poor, and have accomplished little." Mrs. Malfoy gave her harsh assessment as if easily as she might describe the page 5 society gossip column; however, she was still not finished. 

"Miss Granger, you chose a position of value. You have the freedom to focus on specialized projects, access to numerous resources, and your projects are of importance. If you worked for the Ministry, your projects would be slashed to pieces in the budget cuts, I can assure you. Experience can be gained here. Within a few years and _with the right help_ , I could definitely see you being quite sought after individual," she said as she poured two cups of tea. One for herself and for Hermione.

Mrs. Malfoy's words were flattering. If there were such a career as a professional deipnosophist, she would be perfect, Hermione thought. It felt really nice to have someone understand why she wanted the job in the first place, well, before she realized her boss was a wacked out psycho. 

"Have you been presented?" Mrs Malfoy asked as she extended the cup of tea towards Hermione with her right hand. There was not even the slightest rattling sound of china.

Accepting the cup with both hands, Hermione told the woman that she had not. When she took her first sip, she realized that Mrs. Malfoy had made it perfectly to her liking. _How on earth did she guess?_

"What do you know about our tradition?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"Not much," Hermione admitted. "I assumed it was similar to a muggle debutante ball." Mrs. Malfoy still looked perplexed. "An introduction party into dating," Hermione hastily explained. 

"Ah— I see. Our tradition isn't quite like that. It is a party to introduce a young witch to any and all connections she might need in life. Of course, one might find a husband at the presentation; however, connections are made with future employers, other young witches with similar interests, your future will be told and you will be guided on which steps to make in the future. It's the one of the last parties a parent will host for a child. It's an extremely beneficial tradition. With the proper presentation, you can bypass the insignificant steps others take. I had one when I was younger," Mrs. Malfoy explained.

Hermione wondered why Mrs Malfoy had even mentioned the subject.  

"I'm surprised you don't already know all about it," Mrs. Malfoy commented. 

Hermione shrugged. "It's not in the Hogwarts curriculum, and Mrs. Weasley would've mentioned it if she thought I needed it."

"Oh? Is Mrs. Weasley a mentor to you?" Mrs. Malfoy asked with mild curiosity.  

Hermione frowned slightly. "I greatly respect Mrs. Weasley. She has been nothing but pleasant, helpful, and caring to me." 

 "That's wonderful!" She said it so smoothly that Hermione wondered if it were sarcasm. "Would she be the person to give you the presentation? If you were to have one, of course?" 

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. None of her children had one."

Mrs. Malfoy eyed her carefully. "I see." Setting her tea on the table, she shifted ever-so-slightly in her seat to mirror Hermione. 

"You need someone who is comfortable with presentations," she stated. 

"Well, if I were to have one," Hermione responded. 

Mrs. Malfoy ignored the previous statement. "Are you friends with Daphne Greengrass?" 

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think we've ever spoken, but she was in my year." 

"I thought so," Mrs. Malfoy replied. "She is a polite girl. She recently had her presentation. It turned out beautifully. I used to host a great deal of parties. If you decided you wanted to have a presentation, I might be able to offer you some assistance. After all, the level of success depends on the host." 

Hermione widened her eyes in surprise. Why on earth would Mrs. Malfoy offer to help her in the society which she previously fought to ban muggleborns? Before entering the room, Hermione didn't have high expectations for this meeting, but Mrs. Malfoy was nice. Too nice, really. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed not really knowing what to say. 

"I understand that we have not previously met under the best of circumstances, but I do hope we can set our toxic aura in the past and look into the future." Mrs. Malfoy began dismissing the past as almost unnecessary and irrelevant. Suddenly, her smiles did not seem as pleasant to Hermione as they once did. The sweetness felt sickening and made Hermione want to crawl out of her skin. She subconsciously reached to cover the Mudblood carving in her arm. Not meeting under the best of circumstances was the understatement of the century, and referring to torture as "toxic aura" filled Hermione with fury.

"Surely, there is no reason to reminisce unpleasantries of the past," she said. Hermione detected the flippancy within her tone. 

Hermione thought that was the saddest fucking non-apology on the planet. Mrs. Malfoy wanted her to forget everything: Draco's slurs and taunts, the horcrux diary, Bellatrix's torture, and her own blood supremacy. And that short list was only the tip of the iceberg.

"Toxic aura?" Hermione managed to ask. She considered herself to be a forgiving person, but whatever _that_ was, was not good enough. She couldn't even count it to be an apology. "Is that what you're calling it?" Mrs. Malfoy didn't respond, but Hermione knew that the woman knew she had made a mistake.

 Hermione laughed bitterly, and set the tea cup down. It rattled slightly, which she was sure Mrs. Malfoy disapproved. She stared directly at the woman who lied to Voldemort.

"Did you think of my torture as toxic aura when _you_ watched? Is that how you sleep at night?" Hermione asked. A muscle in her jaw twitched with rage. "Did you disapprove of my so-called negative energy as I pleaded and screamed for _your sister_ to stop slicing into my skin? How I begged for the cruciatus curse to stop? How could I possibly forget? My arm still bares the scars." Hermione yanked her robe sleeve up exposing the ugly carving. " _This_ is what your side thought of me!" Hermione's voice grew louder and angrier with each breath. "How _dare_ you? How dare you expect me to let you use me for your own social gain and be grateful when it has been your family who has caused me pain?" 

Mrs. Malfoy sat frozen in her chair. She looked stunned and her smile had faded, but Hermione didn't care. She wasn't finished yet.

"Now that the rest of your family is dark mark-free, you are here to remove yours. There won't be any evidence of your collusion with Voldemort. Now, you want to use me to bolster your place in society. I appreciate what you did for Harry. I really do, but you can't expect me to forget. You didn't even apologize. Don't you care at all?" You haven't done _anything_ to make amends! None of you have!" 

Mrs. Malfoy's pale, marble face turned an even whiter shade Hermione didn't know was possible. Her eyes filled with tears. "You'll have you excuse me," she choked at last as a tear splashed onto her cheek. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. 

The tea was cold. There was no need to pretend anymore.

Hermione's eyes became a well of angry, bitter tears that refused to drain. "Should we get on with it?" she asked, finally, holding up the syringe. 

Narcissa set the handkerchief on her lap. "Yes," she whispered, and pulled out a purse of galleons which she set on the table. 

* * *

Narcissa was a much better patient than her son or husband. She neither complained nor made threats as the antidote proceeded to burn the Dark Mark's magic out of her arm. Neither Narcissa nor Hermione uttered a word until the process was complete.

Once completed, Mrs. Malfoy turned her arm over to examine the results. The mark was a white color now. Once she had finished examining it, she covered it with her long sleeve robes. 

"If there are any problems, let me know and I'll try to tweak the antidote," Hermione offered. 

Mrs. Malfoy nodded in response. "Ah— thank you." She began to fix her hair, which had become rumpled, and re-pin her hat. Once she was satisfied with the results, she turned from the mirror to face Hermione. "I hope you know that I _am_ sorry," she offered. "Terribly sorry for _everything_." 

There it was: an apology. It didn't feel nearly as good as Hermione imagined it would be. Instead of the soothing warmth Hermione had expected, a sense of numbness washed over her. She thanked Mrs. Malfoy for the gesture, but she couldn't utter the words "I forgive you". Not yet, anyway. 

She walked Mrs. Malfoy to the floo. The Malfoys seemed to have nine lives when it came to public opinion. The strategy of pretending to be neutral seemed to work for the most part. Of course, huge donations helped as well. Their saving grace had been when Narcissa lied to Voldemort. People who had not dealt with the Malfoys during the war hailed Narcissa Black Malfoy to be a hero. Others simply assumed that her son and husband had done the same as she. If one were discovered to be a Death Eater, one would be arrested and brought in for questioning. The St. Mungos ban on health care for Death Eaters did the most damage. With evidence of the Dark Mark eradicated, the Malfoys would remain unscathed. 

When Mrs. Malfoy stepped inside the floo, Hermione bade her goodbye. Although the facade had been dropped, Narcissa offered a hint of a smile and told her that offer for presentation still stood before she vanished into the floo network. 

* * *

Hermione wished she could go home after her meeting with Mrs. Malfoy. Never before had tea been so mentally draining, but the day was far from over and there was still much work to be done. The crone remained hidden away in her tower.

The plants in the greenhouse required extensive care. Magical gardens were a great deal more complex than muggle gardens. Muggle gardens didn't scream at you or try to smother you to death with vines. When one of the vines wrapped itself around her left leg, Hermione realized she hated plants. This realization surprised her, because she didn't mind Herbology classes back at Hogwarts. 

Once she removed the offending plant from her leg, she heard the green house door creak open. 

"Who is there?" she called holding the pruners. Guests were not expected because the little elf hadn't announced anyone. Hermione refused to believe he was an awful little thing.

She heard the person's footsteps walk towards her. "Granger?" 

Hermione twisted her head around to see whom the voice belonged. A familiar, tall, thin wizard with dark hair walked into view. The sleeves of his robes were pushes up to his elbows, and his dark mark was on display for all to see. 

"So it really is you," he mused. "I thought he was lying." 

"Theo? Nott?" she asked with an inflection for both his first and last name. She asked only in surprise. It was undeniably Theo. He hadn't changed much looks-wise from Hogwarts. Tall, thin, dark hair, unaccustomed to work, a bit frail, and exquisitely dressed. He was smart, but lazy. Needless to say, they had never been friends.

The corners of his mouth lifted upwards in a sort of smirk. "The one and only." He obnoxiously gave her the one-over. Hermione defiantly propped her hands on her hips, daring him to say anything about the protective gardening gear. 

"So— you work with plants," he commented unimpressed.

"You don't know shit about my job," Hermione sniffed.  "Remind me, again. What exactly is it that you do?" she mocked. 

He grinned unfazed. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" _Lazy, lazy lazy!_

Hermione sighed and pulled off her dragon hide gloves. "Why are you here?"

He flashed his dark mark close to her face. "You always were oddly clever for a mudblood. Can you guess?" His grin was wiped off his face by a sharp, wandless, non-verbal hex.

"Don't _ever_  call me that again," she hissed.

He grunted in dissatisfaction, rubbing his stinging arm. His mumbling was incoherent. 

"What was that?" Hermione asked sharply. 

"Merlin, you're a _bitch_."

Hermione laughed harshly. "Get the fuck out of here, Nott." She pointed her wand toward the door. It swung open with a bang. 

He took the hint and left muttering curses and slurs as he stormed down the hall.

* * *

It was late in the day when Hermione finished work. Going straight home didn't sound particularly appealing, so she decided to grab dinner in Diagon Alley. The Alley was very much alive, even at this time of night. Torches lit the street, street vendors were still selling food and pubs remained open. Only the retail shops were closed.  As she made her way through the streets, she thought she saw Harry in one of the pub windows. To satisfy her curiosity, she wandered into the pub. It was indeed Harry. He was sitting by himself drinking. He looked extremely troubled and depressed. 

"Harry?" she asked hesitantly as she climbed into his booth. He lifted his head at the sound of his name. His eyes were red as if he had been crying.

"I thought it was you!" she exclaimed. Her eyes flickered over his appearance. 

"Hermione?" he croaked. "What are you doing here?" 

"I was walking down the alley and I saw you— sitting here," Hermione replied as she looked around the little pub. No one had noticed the two of them in their booth.  "Oh Harry, what's wrong?" she asked. 

He ignored her question and, instead, picked up his pint to drink. 

Hermione sighed. "Did you get into a fight with Ron or any of the Weasleys?"

He shook his head. 

"Have you heard from Ginny?" 

His head whipped up to look at her. "No," he answered quickly. "I haven't written since she first left," he muttered in a dejected tone, but offered no other explanation for his misery.

Hermione sighed. "Harry! I can't read your mind. Just tell me!"

"I'd rather not," he scowled as he took another swig from the pint.

"Too bad," Hermione retorted. "I'm your best friend. We're honest with each other no matter what. I've seen everything so whatever it is, it can't be that bad. So start talking."

Putting the pint down, he fiddled with a piece of thread that was unraveling on his left sleeve and took a deep breath. "There are training tests they put everybody through. I had my first mental evaluation test today, and I— I didn't pass," he admitted. Disbelief was written on his face. "I've had a bit of a rough time lately, I'll admit, but I'll get the hang of it! I did fuck it up a couple of times for my team. I know it was wrong, but I don't know— Anyway, just when I thought I was beginning to get the hang of it, I failed the mental health examination. Chief says that I can either drop out of the program or enroll in therapy." 

As Hermione listened, she felt the sympathy well up inside her. She knew he had been going through something for awhile, but she didn't want to pry. "At St. Mungos?" 

"Yeah."

"Well, when's the first session?" she asked. 

"There isn't going to be a first session."

"Why not?" Hermione challenged.

He took the last gulp from his pint and waved the server over for another pint. "Because! Haven't I done enough?" he exclaimed in exasperation. 

"Harry, you cannot give up! This is what you've wanted!" Hermione said earnestly. "There is no reason for you not to go to therapy! You aren't quitting and you aren't kicked out. It's gonna be okay. It'll be a good thing in the long run. You can't let a slight dip in the road throw you off track."

Harry shrugged. "I don't see what therapy will do for me. What, I tell some stranger about my feelings and suddenly everything is okay?" 

"No," Hermione corrected. "It's a process. Nothing instantaneous about it." She sighed unimpressed with his . "Have you told Ron?"

"No, not yet," he sighed. "I'll tell them tomorrow." 

Hermione nodded. "Okay. It's alright that you're taking time for yourself for therapy. The Weasleys will understand that. How's Ron doing?"

His expression brightened at bit. "He's doing great! He loves the program, and so far, has passed everything easily," he said, proud of Ron's success.  

"That's great!" Hermione was happy Ron was doing well.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "I just wish I could— you know?"

"You will!" Hermione promised. "You need to take time to heal. I'll even go with you to register" she volunteered. 

He gave her an odd look. "Are you sure even you want to?" he asked.

"Why do ask?"

"Because you haven't answered my owls in weeks!"

"Weeks!" she exclaimed in a bewildered tone. "What do you mean?  I haven't received anything!"

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. "I sent you at least two letters! You never responded." 

"I never got it," she insisted. There hadn't been any owl deliveries in days. 

He took another swig from the pint. It looked like they were going to be there awhile, so Hermione ordered dinner. It was slightly after midnight when they stumbled out of the pub. Harry was drunk, and Hermione had a slight buzz.

"Aw fuck!" he exclaimed right before he entered the floo.

"What?"

"What will Mrs. Weasley say?" Harry asked with a slightly disturbed expression on his face. "Do you think it's obvious that I drank a _wee_ bit?" he asked in completely seriousness.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, it's quite obvious."

Suddenly, he burst into peels of laughter and crouched down on the ground.

"Come on! Get up!" Hermione ordered. She may have a slight buzz, but she was much more sober minded than Harry. "You can crash at my house. I think it's better to break the news about therapy when you don't stumble home drunk." She grabbed his arm and tugged him to stand up. 

"Hermione," he slurred. "You always have logical ideas."

"WE'RE GOING TO HERMIONE'S HOUSE!" he shouted as he dramatically flung the floo powder on the ground. Hermione had to grab him by his cloak to pull him out of the floo before the green flames engulfed him.

"I'm not connected, you drunk!" Hermione scolded. She grabbed his hand and apparated to her house. Luckily, he did not vomit on the carpet. Walking up the stairs to a guest bedroom was too much trouble in his state. 

Instead, he stretched out on the couch. Hermione covered him with a blanket, and brought an extra pillow.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione awoke before Harry. He was still sleeping on the couch downstairs.  Realizing that she didn't have any food in the fridge, she decided they could go somewhere for breakfast.

She slipped on jeans and a t-shirt, and drew back the curtains to let in light. She woke Harry up by smacking him in the face with a pillow repeatedly. 

He let out a groan in response and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Wake up!" Hermione sang. "Just because you don't have work today doesn't mean I don't. Let's go get breakfast or something." Breakfast. Harry was up for that.

"Bathroom is upstairs next to my room. You can use my stuff," Hermione told him.

He looked around the room. His hair stood in all directions. Hermione stifled a laugh.  

"You know, I don't think I've ever been to your house before," Harry said. 

Hermione shrugged. "We always hung out The Burrow. There was no need to come here."

"That's true," he replied as he made his way up the stairs. 

"Transfigure something muggle!" she called after him. 

While he showered, Hermione checked for new owls. They would usually fly in through a window she left open, but they hadn't dropped anything off in days. Twenty minutes later, Harry was ready to go. He had transfigured his robes into a plaid button down shirt which Hermione hadn't seen him wear since Hogwarts. 

Ah, the old uniform?" Hermione teased.

He grinned sheepishly. "I'm not great about fashion."

Hermione laughed. "Ready?" 

"Yeah."

He followed her out the front door. 

"Your room is nothing like I thought it would be," Harry remarked. She threw him a curious look as she fumbled with her house keys. 

"What did you think it would be?"

"I don't know. I guess I expected books and things from the Wizarding World," he replied, running his hand through his hair. "It looks like an ordinary muggle bedroom. There is no reference to half the stuff you like."   

The door locked with a click. Hermione shrugged dismissively. "Well, it's my parents house." she reasoned. "I can hardly keep a full potion pantry with cauldrons, magical books, charmed pictures, robes, and all on display. As it is, I disillusion my robes in my own closet, and I don't want people flooing over here."

Harry raised his brows. "You don't have your floo connected?" he asked in a bewildered tone. 

"Nope!" 

"Hey, what's that?" Harry asked pointing to a brown lump stuck in the bushes. 

"Let's find out." Hermione walked towards it and pulled it out. It was a small brown package. Hermione realized it must've been the book she ordered. The paper was ripped in the corner, and reddish brown stains covered one side of it. The stains had soaked through the paper and it was still slightly damp. Running the palms of her hands over it, she realized it felt sticky. "What the fuck?" she exclaimed aloud. 

"What?" Harry asked peering over her shoulder. 

"This is sticky!" she exclaimed. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed it suspiciously. "What does this smell like to you?" she asked handing the package over to Harry. 

He hesitantly sniffed. "Uh, smells like old coins." 

Hermione rolled her eyes. Trust guys not to be able to tell the scent of blood. She ripped off the brown paper. Luckily, the paper absorbed most of the blood and kept it from seeping into book cover. Hermione reasoned that the owl must've become injured en route.  Wondering if the injured bird were still in her yard, she walked around her front lawn looking for any trace of it. 

"You don't think—" Harry began as it began to dawn on him what had happened. 

"I don't know what to think." Hermione interjected sharply. She stared at the row of houses on her street. The sun had only risen a few moments earlier, and most of the people were still asleep.

" _A Complete Outline of Wizarding Law_ " Harry read aloud in a bland tone as he eyed the thick book. "Some light reading?" 

"Something like that," Hermione replied averting her eyes.

"So— breakfast?" Harry suggested oblivious to her discomfort. His stomach started to rumble. 

"Absolutely." 

* * *

Hermione brought Harry to a cozy little breakfast diner she used to visit with her dad on the weekends. The menu hadn't changed in years, and Hermione ordered the same thing ever since she could remember. From what she could tell, Harry enjoyed it. He had stopped moping about the therapy. 

Taking her coffee to go, Hermione went with Harry to St. Mungos to schedule him for therapy. She wouldn't hear of his protests. He was scheduling therapy sessions and that was final. Hermione almost sat with him during the therapy session, but he promised he would attend each one.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked for the millionth time. 

"Positive," he promised. "I don't need you to go with me, but can we make this our thing? Thursday morning breakfast before—" he rolled his eyes  "therapy?" 

"Whatever you want," Hermione nodded eagerly. She watched him disappear with a healer into the restricted section of the hospital. He was still wearing the transfigured muggle outfit. She shook her head. He really didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought.

* * *

The next stop was the Owl Post Office. Hermione brought the soiled brown paper with her as evidence. She wrinkled her nose as soon as she was within a block of the office. A whiff of the putrid dung smell could render a person unconscious. The wooden door squealed open to an even more potent smell. Employees worked with air bubbles around their heads. Hermione quickly cast a bubble charm for herself as well. 

She was quickly ushered into an employee's office once she introduced herself. The plaque on the desk read Lorcan Coolidge. The man behind the desk was a middle-aged wizard with shoulder-length salt and pepper hair.

"Miss Granger! Please, have a seat. Thank you for coming in. Our office was scheduled to contact you tomorrow. I understand you have been having some delivery problems, no?"

"Yes," Hermione frowned. "I can't remember when I last saw an owl deliver anything. I did receive a package this morning, but I found it in the garden shrubs with blood on the wrapping paper." She placed the blood stained paper on the desk for Lorcan to examine.

He glanced at it only for a moment and grimaced slightly. "Miss Granger, I'm aware of the situation. My office has been investigating since the first notification of a missing owl. So far there have been 8 of our birds missing, and each of them were en route to your address. Because of that reason, I'm afraid we are going to have to terminate your deliveries."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his hand.  

"Ordinarily, we wouldn't stoop to such drastic measures; however, this particular case warrants it. You live in a muggle neighborhood, no? First, you must understand that the owls must be free of all charms. Disillusionments are out of the question, because the owls would be unable to fly past wards. Your muggle neighbors have been shooting our owls. Therefore, we can no longer send our birds to your address.  

Hermione leaned back in her chair, hardly able to believe her ears. "My neighbors are— what?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "And you're sure about this? Absolutely sure?"

"Positive," Lorcan informed her. "The investigation began last week and we discovered the cause today."

"No, no, I— I need to receive my mail! That is not an option for me," Hermione protested. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

He looked apologetic. "We could reroute your mail to another relative?"

"No," she answered shortly. "Not an option."

"Well, my hands are tied," he said. "Unless, you are willing to move. If you insist on living in the muggle world, might I suggest muggle flats? They are less noticeable when it comes to owl deliveries."

A light turned on in Hermione's head. There it was: an excuse to move. How could it be rash if there were no alternative?

"I'll find a new place immediately," Hermione agreed without hesitation.

"I'm glad you have it sorted! Contact us as soon as you are settled down at your new place, and we will reinstate your deliveries. Best of luck to you!"

Hermione left OWL Post Office almost giddy with excitement. Although it had only been a few minutes, she had formulated an entire plan.

Unable to owl, she went straight to The Ministry. She had a proposition for Parvati.   

* * *

 Parvati had not expected the department secretary to inform her that Hermione Granger was waiting to see her in the lobby. 

"Hermione? I didn't know you were stopping by!" Parvati greeted her friend with a hug. 

"Sorry! Are you busy?" Hermione asked taking in her friend's appearance. Parvati looked sharp in her business robes.

"I can spare a few minutes. What's up?"

"Remember our conversation at lunch a few weeks ago?"

Parvati had a blank expression on her face. "Um, which part?"

"The moving out part?" Hermione prompted.

Realization dawn over Parvati's face. "Ah! Yeah, what about it?" Parvati asked.

"I think I found a loophole. The wizarding world won't sell to unmarried witches, but the muggle world will! The Owl Post terminated my mail until I get a new place—"

"What happened?"

Hermione waved her hand. "A story for another day. Really annoying though, believe me. Anyway, I'm getting a flat as soon as possible. I can't  _not_ receive owls. It'll be close to the Leaky Cauldron. How does being roommates again sound to you?" 

"Live in the muggle world?" Parvati asked a bit reluctantly. "No offense, but I don't know anything about living around muggles!" 

"Oh, there's nothing to it, especially, if you don't talk to any. Just disillusion yourself or wear muggle clothing when you walk to the Leaky Cauldron." 

"When are you going shopping?" Parvati asked. She seemed to be thinking it over. 

"Either today after work or tomorrow," Hermione replied.

"Okay, I'll think it over. Let me know if you go to view a flat. I'd like to see it. If it's nice enough, who knows," Parvati joked. 

"Alright, I'll—" Hermione's ring began to pinch her finger. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "Parvati, I have to go. Let's meet about this later." 

Parvati jumped, a bit startled by Hermione's sudden urgency. "How about the new place in Carkitt tomorrow after work?" 

"Sounds good!" Hermione called over her shoulder as she power-walked towards The Ministry elevators. She was absolutely determined to make the best of the situation with or without Parvati. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I've actually been writing a little each day. It's just that I didn't like the majority of what I wrote. Hopefully, everyone enjoys the new update. Constructive criticism is welcome. 
> 
> 1) Ignorantania juris non excusat - ignorance of the law excuses no one.
> 
> 2) Did anyone notice Narcissa's manipulation techniques during the tea? She mirrors Hermione's body language to trick Hermione into liking her, feeds her ego by praising her decisions, dangles an opportunity for Hermione to be truly accepted in pureblood wizarding society which she would use for Hermione to be in her debt. Of course it backfires, but it's a tempting image. 
> 
> 3) Although there is no sign of Draco in this chapter, it is clear he has been trying to get his family and fellow Slytherins to rid themselves of the dark mark. Hence, Theo's visit. 
> 
> 4) Remember the hints of Harry's emotional turmoil in chapters 4 and 9? Now you have the answer.
> 
> 5) In the next few chapters, I will be writing more character growth for Hermione. I think it's clear that there has been a change in this chapter. More independence and confidence. Also, it will be nice to see her interactions with Parvati, don't you think?


	13. Convenience

A month's worth of changes happened within a week's period. She had no problem selling the old house. The new owners were anxious to move in as soon as possible, and everything had to be packed. Hermione thanked merlin that she sorted through her parents' possessions months earlier.  She didn't feel upset to leave. A sort of resignation and acceptance washed over her. She walked around the house one last time. Everything was packed and ready to go. It looked as bare and empty as it had felt during the past months. It was time to let go, and say goodbye.

Goodbye to her childhood bedroom, and to the stairs which creaked on the 7th step, and the living room where they had shared many holidays together.

Goodbye to her parents' old home, their old life, and the memories they shared together.

Goodbye to the familiar street which Hermione road her bike up and down as a child.

Goodbye to the remnants of the old life. 

 _And fuck the neighbors_.

Hermione sighed with relief as the handed the keys over to the real estate agent. The new owners would build their life there without any knowledge of the Grangers or the magic which was performed in that home. They would never know of the transfigured Death Eater who had died in the dining room. Her family thought she was crazy when she had phoned to say she was selling the house.

"But it's your _home_!" Aunt Lena reminded her in exasperation when Hermione had told her the news. But, it really wasn't. Not anymore. 

Her uncle and Andrea were pleased, despite Aunt Lena's disapproval. Andrea took it to mean that Hermione would be getting a flat near a university, and her uncle told her it was smart to sell the money-draining house. 

The new flat had already been decided upon, and the move-in papers were signed within five days. Parvati had declined the offer. Living in muggle London intimidated her. She had only ventured into Muggle London a small handful of times, and never stayed longer than 20 minutes. Hermione swallowed the lump of disappointment. She would be living alone  _again,_ but she reassured Parvati that she understood.  

The flat was small, but it didn't matter. Hermione would use expansion charms, and tailor the room size and quantity to her liking. The walls were freshly painted white, and there was a small balcony ledge for the owl deliveries. The owls were the first guests. Hermione registered her new address with the Owl Post Office and had the floo connected the day those papers were signed. A parliament of owls delivered the missing mail.

There was a lot of work to do. The expansion charms, disillusionments, shopping, and the dreaded explaining to friends that there was a new official residence for Hermione Granger.

Hermione sprung the news on Harry during their new tradition of Breakfast on Thursdays. 

"Mfffaasgff— shhmffdfgja?" came the muffled reply. Harry had taken a rather large mouthful of pancakes.

She waited patiently for him to finish chewing. Hermione could practically see the wheels turning about in his head.

Finally, he cleared his throat and looked expectantly at her. 

"So— you bought a flat," he repeated almost as if he were telling himself the news. His brows furrowed, and he looked a bit confused. "Did you mention this last week?" he asked at last. 

Hermione shook her head. "No. It's all happened rather quickly, I know." She related the recent developments that had lead up to the new residence.

 "Merlin," he exclaimed, and shook his head in disbelief. "All of that—" he trailed off as he became lost in thought. Suddenly, his attention snapped back to her. "I am  _so_ sorry! I should've been there to help you— I could have done something— you needed help—"

"Harry, I took care of it." She watched him as his agitation grew. His thumb tapped repeatedly against the wood table top. 

_That's why I didn't tell you._

"But you shouldn't have to!" he sputtered.  "They can't run you out of your own house!"

Hermione leaned forward and patted his arm in reassurance. "They didn't run me out of my house," she explained calmly. "I sold it, and it's time anyway. If I don't think it's that bad, then you shouldn't either. You didn't need to do anything." She smiled at him. "Really, this is a good thing. Now, tell me how Ron took your news."

Harry seemed pacified by this explanation; although, the worried crease never left his forehead now. It seemed to be permanently etched into his skin. "Better than I thought. He offered to take therapy too. Although, he doesn't talk about training with me anymore. I think he finds the whole thing to be a bit awkward."

"It's only as awkward as you make it," Hermione insisted. 

"I'll keep that in mind, Therapist Granger," Harry teased. A hint of a laugh ghosted over his lips. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was pleased to see the lighthearted expression again. "Please, I probably need just as much help as you. What was it like— the session, I mean." 

"Uh— well— it's okay. The therapist suggested that I take up a sport or hobby while I complete therapy. Something that requires physical labor. It's supposed to help alleviate stress." He shrugged and fiddled with his sleeve. "I don't know, but I'll give it a try," he replied.

"And have you decided what the hobby will be?" Hermione asked as she waved the server over to pay for the breakfast. Time was almost up. Hermione had a job to get to and Harry had an appointment to keep.

"Not yet. I thought I might try jogging, but I did that yesterday and I don't think I'll be repeating it."

Hermione laughed. "Merlin and Morgana! I can't imagine you jogging."

He looked at her in mock offense, but he couldn't prevent the grin from spreading across his face. "Me either. I don't know what came over me." His eyes flickered towards the clock on the wall.  "I have to go. If I don't leave now, I'll be late.

"Alright. You'll stop by and see my new place?" she asked.

"Of course!" 

"Bring Ron too!" she called as he sprinted off to his appointment. 

* * *

Harry did as he promised. He and Ron flooed over in the late evening. Ron had insisted in seeing Hermione's new flat as soon as he left training. He hadn't even stopped to change from his training robes. "Hermione!" His voice echoed throughout the minimalistic white rooms.

"—one order of somosas" Hermione poked her head into the room with a phone in hand and waved. "Actually make that three orders of somosas, and three orders of chicken tandoori, and one order of naan, please. 

"What's that?" Ron whispered to Harry as he pointed to the phone. Hermione rattled off her address in the background, and ended the call.

"Hey! So—" Hermione gestured newly decorated flat. "What do you think?"

Ron glanced around the flat. "It's uh—  no offense, Hermione, but it looks so small and— alien," he commented. Hermione had decorated her flat with a minimalistic, modern, contemporary approach. She could see how he found it to be alien. The sleek modern designs appeared futuristic compared to the ornate antique furniture which was popular in the Wizarding community. The colors were neutral, aside from the occasional pop of color here and there. 

Hermione laughed and lifted the disillusionment charm shrouding half of the apartment. "Not so small now, is it?"

"What!" Harry exclaimed, and went to investigate the hidden rooms. Hermione followed behind Ron. Behind the disillusion wall, Hermione had set up her own potion lab inspired by a muggle chemistry lab. The pantry was already partially stocked. The hallway between her bedroom and the lab was lined with floor to ceiling book shelves. Several boxes with labeled "Books" with a black sharpie were partially unpacked.

"Goodness 'Mione, tell me you didn't arrange the potion ingredients in alphabetical order!" Ron said with a grin when he noticed how neatly the lab was assembled. 

"Alright, I won't tell you," Hermione smiled back. "I ordered you guys food."

"Good! I haven't eaten a thing since lunch. They don't allow snack breaks. It's torture, I tell you!"

"That's one thing I don't miss," Harry chuckled quietly. Ron immediately became tense as if he remembered something he had forgotten. He turned to stare out the window curiously watching the muggles. "One of these days, we should join them." 

"What, you want to explore Lond— I mean muggle London?" Hermione asked. "You usually have no interest in doing anything outside of the Wizarding World." 

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. They look like they are having fun. What do you think they talk about?" 

"They're just regular people," Harry said. 

"I know, but it's not the same." Ron replied. He felt a curiosity that Hermione and Harry could not understand. 

_Ring Ring Ring!_

"What's that?" Ron jumped. 

"Oh relax, Ron! It's just a phone. I told you about this already. If you would just listen to half the things I say, you would know a whole lot more about the muggle world." Hermione said as picked up the phone. "Hello? So soon? Okay, send her up. Thanks"

The knock at the door came soon after. "Food's here!" she sang as she swung open the door, expecting to see the delivery person, but instead it was Andrea.

"Hate to disappoint, but I didn't bring any food, Cuz," Andrea announced. Hermione frantically waved her hand at Harry and Ron behind the door. She could only hope that they could get the hint to either transfigure their robes or disappear behind the disillusioned wall for a little while.

"Oh. Andrea, uh— I didn't know you were stopping by."

"Why is it a problem?"" Andrea asked as if she didn't really care, and pushed her way inside the flat.  "Oh! It looks so chic!" she sounded surprised and impressed as she walked around the living room.  

"You think so? Thanks." Hermione followed behind her cousin. Her eyes darted around the room looking for any signs of magic that she may have left laying about. Just then, Harry and Ron re-entered the room. This time they wore muggle clothing.

When Andrea turned around, she was confronted with two strange boys standing next to her cousin. "Who are you?" she demanded as she crossed her arms defensively.

"Andrea, these are my school friends: Harry and Ron. Harry, Ron, this is Andrea, my cousin." Hermione stood in-between the her friends and her cousin. Andrea didn't make the best first impression, but there again, neither did Harry or Ron. Her boys looked like social outcasts to the average muggle.  

"Uh— nice to meet you," Ron offered. 

"Hmm— pleasure." Andrea responded stiffly. 

Harry stifled a laugh. The exchange was uncanny in the similarity of his and Ron's first exchange with Hermione on the train. Ron's made a slight face as he quickly glanced at Harry. Clearly, he remembered as well. 

Andrea, unaware of the exchange, sat on the couch and dug through her purse. She pulled out some papers which were folded in half. "The first classes for grad school began this week. I picked these up for you— for the spring semester. The deadline is a little ways away, but you'll want to fill it out as soon as possible for early admissions, also contact Professor Davis for that letter of recommendation. Don't wait till the last minute, okay?" 

"O—okay! Well— uh thanks," Hermione stammered, and she brushed her hair behind her ear. She could feel Harry and Ron's inquisitive eyes burning into her side. She hadn't wanted to mix her wizard and muggle lives. Andrea had crossed that line, and it made Hermione extremely uncomfortable. "Well, I won't fill this out tonight," she laughed weakly as she skimmed the pages. 

"Do you want me to help you fill it out?" Andrea asked. 

"No, it's fine." Hermione replied. 

"Alright, I'll just leave it here." Andrea turned to address the two social outcasts who now sat across from her. "So— where do you go?" she inquired. 

"Uh—" Ron looked to Harry for help. 

"We're not in university." Harry replied quickly. 

"Oh," Andrea sniffed, clearly unimpressed with her cousin's choice of friends. Hermione inwardly sighed. Andrea was like a cat: once she made up her mind about someone, she would never change her opinion. Grangers were stubborn like that. 

The knock at the door broke the tense air with the delivery of freshly baked of somosas. 

* * *

 Working alone in peace came to an end Friday morning. The old witch had finally descended her tower, and immediately began making up for lost time. The old witch sat behind her desk and wrote letter after letter for hours. After awhile, she set her quill down and stretched her bony fingers. "We should never take ingredients for granted. Some are dreadfully difficult to get," she complained. 

Hermione watched as owls brought back responses, and whatever the crone seemed to be looking for could not be found. The crone burned each letter in annoyance, and muttered about a "ridiculous shortage".

"What are you looking for?" Hermione asked at last.

The old witch harrumphed. "Nothing you can provide," she sniped.  

She ordered Hermione to turn to the 602 page of a reference book of spells.

"If possible, we need to find a substitute for—"

"Ow!" Hermione yelped. She had carelessly cut her finger on the sharp paper. Blood quickly rose to fill the thin line of severed skin. She grabbed a towel to blot the blood.

The crone watched Hermione intently through her beady eyes. She slowly walked towards Hermione, and removed the towel.

"Hey, what are you—"

 The crone grasped Hermione's wrist tightly and began chanting an latin spell which Hermione did not know. Alarmed, she tried to pull her hand away, but the crone wrapped her bony fingers around Hermione's wrist event tighter. "W—what are you doing?" Hermione cried in distress. "Let me go!" 

Suddenly, the crone stopped chanting and the blood, which was now smeared on her finger and on the towel, began to glow as a result of the incantation. The beady eyes seemed to glow. "Well, I suppose you _can_ provide my ingredient after all," the old witch purred. 

"Let me see that finger," she coaxed. Hermione slowly unfurled her finger from her tightly clenched fist for the crone to examine. She didn't know what the crone wanted, but she had a sinking feeling that it couldn't be good. The magic of the ring forced her to comply with the command, even though every inch of her body protested.

"Please— please don't!" Hermione begged. "No— don't—"

"Don't scream," the crone ordered. The ring's magic band burned again, and Hermione felt her tongue unable to move. Her eyes pleaded what her tongue could not.

The wretched hag squeezed the finger until three droplets of blood came to the surface and dripped into the glass vial. Unsatisfied, the crone picked up a small knife and sliced the palm of Hermione's hand open. 

Hermione's own tongue acted as a gag. Whatever scream or curse she wanted to shout, was muffled. _Fuck—Merlin— It fucking hurt!_

The crone ignored it, and let the blood drip into the vial.

"Virgin's blood," the crone breathed in awe once the vial was filled to the brim. She held the vial towards the sunlight streaming into the room from the stained glass window. "It  _is_ difficult to find a supplier." She glanced back towards Hermione. "It was  _convenient._ "  

Unable to reply, Hermione's eyes widened with alarm. She followed the crone to the door with her eyes. She refused to blink. If she did— blink, she would lose the intensity she was unable to express with her voice. Her glare was terminated by the crone disappearing behind the door. Seconds later, her tongue loosened and she was able to speak— no, scream.  

* * *

Her whole body was shaking. It wouldn't stop. _Why couldn't she stop?_ Somebody sounded upset. _I—I—I should help, she thought._ Her teeth knocked together as they chattered incessantly. It wasn't until then that she realized that she was the one in distress. There she was: the pathetic little heap on the floor. Her sobs were interrupted by hiccups as she struggled to bandage her wounded hand. 

_Some despised her for her blood. They would kill her for it._

_Others lusted after it. They would milk her like a cow for it._

Oh Merlin, it was sick. So sick and twisted and disgusting. She had to get out of there. 

Pulling herself to her feet, Hermione dragged herself to the nearest floo. It felt like the longest trek of her life. Flinging the floo powder onto the hearth of the floo, Hermione numbly called out a name and waited to be transported. She must have called for Diagon Alley because that's where the floo transported her, she couldn't remember asking for it. The streets were too busy and filled with noise. Wanting to escape, Hermione entered the nearest shop.

_"Hermione? Hermione!"_

Hermione thought she heard someone say her name, but she couldn't be sure. She sat in the nearest chair and closed her eyes for a minute. When she opened her eyes, Hermione found that she was staring directly into large blue eyes. 

It was Luna.

* * *

 Hermione thanked Merlin and Morgana that she entered the shop she did. For it was the Quibbler's editorial and printing office. Luna was by pure chance that she ran into Luna, because Luna did not work at The Quibbler. Instead, she had become a naturalist. She had only stopped by to drop off an article of her announcement of a new theory of the existence and growth of Qarthvortuls.  

Seeing her old friend in distress, Luna brought Hermione to a closed office away from the people, and fixed her a cup of hot pumpkin seed milk.

"I don't have regular milk. I'm vegan now," Luna explained.

"Oh. Thanks." Hermione accepted the cup.

"I can see that you're upset, and I know that you don't have to tell me anything, but you would feel better if you did. It helps to have others saddle the burden so that you aren't alone."  

Maybe it was Luna's caring nature, or because of Hermione's badly shaken state, but Hermione found herself unleashing the whole story. Whatever shame she felt vanished for that short period as Luna listened.  

"—and I hate her! I hate her so much, but not as much as I hate myself for getting tricked. Merlin, I'm so fucking stupid!" 

Luna grabbed Hermione's shoulders. "You're not stupid. You were tricked. I'm really sorry that happened to you!" She hugged Hermione tightly as if that were the magic cure, but Hermione did feel better afterward. 

"What do I do?" Hermione whispered. 

Luna didn't respond. She remained silent for so long that Hermione thought that Luna had forgotten to answer. 

"I don't know what to do about the magical bind, but I think the answer is simple if you want to stop her to stop using you as a potion ingredient. If she wants virgin's blood, have sex."

Hermione covered her face with her hands as she burst out laughing. The answer was so ridiculously simple, but in her panic, it had slipped past her. "Oh Luna, you're amazing!"

"Do you have somebody you can ask?" 

Hermione shook her head. "Oh Merlin, I can't imagine asking any of my friends."

"It doesn't have to be a friend," Luna reminded her. 

"That's true," Hermione admitted slowly. "I suppose if worst comes to worst, I can always sleep with a random muggle. It's just that contraceptive spells are so much more effective, especially if I'm the one doing the casting."

Luna laughed. "Well, I suppose you know what to look for. Do you know what tonight is?"

Hermione shook her head. "No? What is it?" 

Luna pulled out The Quibbler's latest edition and pointed to the event section. "Tonight is the mid-summer festival. It pays an homage to Bacchus and pre-celebration for a plentiful harvest. I'm sure you could find somebody there. There is plenty of wine, and wherever there is alcohol, wizards are not too far behind."

"I suppose I could do that— wait! Let me see that?" Hermione looked closer at the article. "Luna, this is an article about how the wine industry keeps making up Bacchus inspired festivals in order to sell overpriced wine!" 

"Well, that's true, but it can still serve your purposes," Luna replied. "I like to bring my own wine to these events." 

"Your own wine?" Hermione repeated trying to imagine what that must taste like.

"Yes! I make it myself the night before each festival I decide to attend."

Hermione inwardly cringed. "Does it taste— okay?"

Luna shrugged. "My whole family likes it!"  Somehow that perfectly explained everything.  

Hermione thought about the festival. It seemed to make sense that she should go. "Alright, I'll go. I'm just— unsure how to go about everything. How do I convince some random guy whom I've only met moments earlier to sleep with me? Do I ask him?"

Luna thought about it. "I don't think you need to. If you simply unrobe, the message is clear. I don't think you will have any trouble. Besides if you don't bring it up, he will."

"I don't think I want to explicitly tell them or strip," Hermione said a bit nervous at the thought. 

Luna shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just remember that you'll want to get this taken care of as soon as possible. Virgin's blood is only used for dark magic rituals, Hermione. If you can, destroy the vial she already. Whatever she plans on using it for can't possibly be good."

Hermione let out a shaky sigh. "I know. That thought has already crossed my mind."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's been awhile. I've had an awful case of writer's block, but I'm back! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed. I really appreciate and enjoy reading your comments. Tell me what you liked, disliked, what made you laugh, and what you would like to see more of. 
> 
> The next chapter should be up soon. I already have an idea of what I want to write about.


	14. Concupiscence

Before the portkey had even landed Hermione on the ground, she could hear the drums beating in the distance as she whirled to her destination. Pulling herself to her feet, Hermione gazed at the sight before her. It was already dark, and a series of bonfires lit the expansive moor below her. A multitude of magic folk were gathered in the lower basin of the land near the largest bonfire. Private tents encircled the outskirts of the festival. Hermione stared, until Luna broke her daze. 

"Come on!" Luna called as she ventured down the slope to join the folk below. Adjusting her mask, Hermione followed a few steps behind her friend. She noticed how Luna's eccentric style blended into the crowd. Luna's long hair was braided and adorned with wild flowers. Despite the large crowd and dark sky, Luna was easy to spot because she wore a bright yellow robe with flair sleeves, and carried a flask of her homemade wine. Once they were among the throng of folk, Hermione observed them more closely. Each witch and wizard's face was covered in a mask. Most masks were inspired by Greek and Roman mythology; however there were a few creature masks.

 The music set the tone of the festival. Hermione could hear a symphony of singers chant with violins, drums, tambourines, and strange wind instruments with which she was unfamiliar echo out onto the vast moor. Luna was already beginning to sway to the beat. The air was thick with smoke, not only from the bonfires but from the herbal blend quite a few wizards had been smoking. Hermione made a beeline for the wine merchants. There was no way she could do this without alcohol. 

"Take your pick," Luna encouraged as she motioned to the folk standing around. 

"Luna," Hermione began nervously. "I don't know if I can do this." 

"If you're that uncomfortable, we can leave," Luna reassured her. "But, just remember why you agreed to this. This is the best way to avoid gossip. You can keep your mask on, and they will never know it's you." 

"You're right. This is the best option. Merlin, I'm nervous about this." Hermione said. 

"Why don't we join in on the festivities for now. It's less scary if you're already having fun," Luna suggested as she screwed the lid back onto her flask.

"Good idea," Hermione agreed She gulped down the rest of the wine in her goblet, and let herself be lead among the throng of dancers. 

* * *

Hermione felt the anxiety vanish as she focused on the heavy flux of magic around her. She let her body be sway with those around her as they dance around the musicians. During feeling of a magical high, Luna drifted away from the dancers to try a pipe with some new acquaintances, but Hermione didn't mind. Hand in hand with the other dances, she spun around the fire and her eyes drifted towards potential partners. Several people had already found willing partners whom they snogged most fervently.

There was the dark haired wizard wearing a full faced mask who danced a few feet away. He appeared to be in good physical shape. Perhaps, he was a possibility? As she spun around the fire again, catching sight of more potential partners she noticed one wizard in particular. He stood out among the rest, because he was staring directly at her. Hermione couldn't help but stare back. She twisted her neck over her shoulder to hold his gaze as the other dancers pulled her along. He followed her dance movements with his eyes. He stood near the dancers with a group of friends, but they did not command his full attention. His friends drank and smoked and laughed loudly as if they were having the time of their lives while he stared at _her_. Appraising his appearance, she noted that he had gorgeous blonde hair which shimmered in the firelight. He was tall, and well built in stature. He had an easy air of confidence which radiated off of him. He made no attempt to hide his blatant lust as he checked her out from head to toe. Hermione shivered at the thought. 

Licking her lips, Hermione realized that she felt incredibly sexy. She found herself putting in extra effort to dance well, _for him._  Swaying her hips more deliberately, she moved sensually to the music. A smirk slowly spread across his face when he realized that the show was for him. Hermione threw her head back and laughed at his reaction. Impatient of watching her on the sidelines, the wizard left his friends and approached her. Hermione found herself pulling away from the dancers to meet him half way. 

Although he couldn't see the upper half of her face, Hermione tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. He stood a whole head taller. Leaning down towards her, he uttered words which made Hermione's stomach flip. " _You_ ," he slid one hand along her waist, "are a  _sinful_ dancer. You've been driving me mad all night." 

Those words were music to her ears. She spent years as the bookworm, the plain one, boring old Granger, and now she was driving this wizard mad with lust. His compliments gave her the confidence to place his unengaged hand on her neglected side. Hermione leaned on the tips of her toes to whisper into his ear, "What else am I?"

The wizard seemed surprised by her boldness, but he seemed to enjoy it. His breath hitched at the feeling of her warm breath against his skin. His fingers trailed up her spine to envelop her hair. Hermione sighed in delight at his touch. "You'll have to show me," he replied.  At that moment, his lips claimed hers. Hermione felt as if she were on fire. Merlin, she could  _feel_ everything so strongly. _This_ was a perfect kiss. This was the kiss that she had dreamed about when she was a girl. She draped herself against his chest seeking for more, and placed her hands around his neck to pull him closely against her. Allowing his tongue to slide against hers, Hermione forgot that they were still in public. She wasn't the type who enjoyed PDA, but he was  _so_ good at it. She yearned for more.

A roar of approval came from the nearby folk who had witnessed the exchange. Hermione reluctantly pulled apart in surprise of the spectacle they seemed to draw. The wizard grunted in disappointment as they pulled apart. His arms, however, were still wrapped around her waist. A girl skipped over with two flower crowns and placed each on their heads. She laughed in merriment, and told them to enjoy the festivities. 

The wizard ignored the nearby crowd and he steadied the flower crown on her head to keep it from slipping. Entangling his fingers in her hair, he kissed her again. Hermione nearly swooned. "Let's get away from the crowd," he whispered in her ear. "My tent or yours?"

"Oh? What do you want to do there?" she teased. His fingers traced her curves. 

" _Anything_ you want,  _however_ you want." 

Of course, she had expected him to say something like that, it hadn't prepared her to be as turned on as she was. "Anything?" she repeated.

"Anything." he confirmed.

Hermione practically melted against him. "Yours," she breathed as she let him lead her hand in hand to his tent.

He lifted the tent flap for her, and followed her inside. She noted that it was decorated lavishly for an overnight festival. It contained every possible convenience a wizard might want. Turning to face him again, she lips curved in a slight smirk. "Anything I want, however I want?" she asked again with a saucy grin. "What a bold offer." 

His cheeks flushed with pink at her insinuation. 

Taking the initiative, Hermione kicked off her shoes and pulled her robes over her head and flung them onto the chair. His jaw dropped as he watched her strip before him, and his trousers tented. Clad in only the royal blue lacy lingerie, Hermione smirked and began to unbutton his shirt. The flower crown slid off her head and fell onto the floor. His had already been lost before they made it to the tent. He made it difficult to focus on the task before her as he kissed, licked, and nipped at her neck. His hand squeezed her bum over her knickers. "Let me," he murmured as he yanked her bra down to feast his tongue on her exposed breasts. She unclasped the bra with one hand behind her back. As it fell to the floor, Hermione realized he was still fully clothed.

"Take this  _off_ ," Hermione ordered as she tugged at his shirt. Not missing a lick, he unbuttoned the last two offending buttons and Hermione yanked the material off his back and reached down for his belt. 

"Good things come in good time," he chuckled as he placed his hand on hers. "You'll be one of them." 

She gasped again, this time in surprise, when his arm slid behind her knees and lifted her off the ground.  She could feel his heart beating rapidly as he carried her to his bed.

He removed the rest of his clothing before joining her. Hermione couldn't help but stare at his naked form. He was so good looking. She propped herself against the plush pillows as he slid the lacy blue knickers off. He felt her stiffen. She was nervous.

"Don't worry," he soothed. "You're going to like this." His fingers dipped  _lower._  His thumb traced her slit, and Hermione found herself moaning to be touched  _more_  as her legs spread apart. She was soaking wet.

His cheeks were as flushed as hers as he listened to her commands. One digit was added, and soon, a second followed.

" _O_ _hh Fuck_!" Hermione cried out. By touching her _where_ she wanted, and as he soon learned _how_ she wanted, she gave a cry in pleasure and let herself sink onto the pillows. Hermione watched as he removed his fingers from her heat and obscenely licked them clean. 

"You taste so goo— _uhh_!" He groaned as he felt her hands squeeze his cock. " _Merlin!_ "  His hips thrusted as she began to pump him _up and down, up and down_.

" _Fuck! I want you so badly!"_

"Then get inside me" she commanded, unable to take any more. She removed her hands from his cock and placed them on his arms to pull him closer to her.

"Hold on," he told her as he reached for his wand. He muttered in the incantation of the contraceptive charm before wrapping his hand around his cock to guide it between her thighs. They moaned together he rubbed his himself against her, and she wrapped her legs around him. His mask shifted slightly as he lay against her so she could see his eyes. They were steel grey. Then Hermione realized she knew those eyes. They were _those_ steel grey eyes, and they were filled with desire for her.

Hermione's eyes widened as she quickly pieced together the obvious clues. The wizard had platinum blonde hair, grey eyes, tall stature, and stayed a lavishly decorated tent. How could she have been so obtuse? She felt his cock aligned with her heat. Oh dear Merlin, she was about to fuck Draco Malfoy!

Suddenly, his mouth covered hers as he thrusted inside her. She felt stuffed, impossibly full. How on earth was she going to stand it? Fortunately, the discomfort did not last long. Her hymen had torn years earlier on a broom accident so there was no bleeding now. 

"Ohh! Bloody fuck you are tight!" he grunted as he stilled to calm himself, and allow her time to adjust. "A—alright?" he panted.  

"Yes!" she moaned. He pulled nearly completely out, and plunged himself deep inside her  _again_.

Hermione found herself urging him to go faster and harder, and harder and faster, until she forgot herself. Her nails raked across his back, and tugged at his hair. His fingers found their way in-between them increasing the intensity. He was determined to make her come. The speed increased with the volume of their combined moans. "Oh! Mal—" Hermione smacked her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from calling his name as she lost herself in pleasure.

The tightening of her legs around him and her wave of pleasure hastened his. He came with a shout, and she could feel his warm seed enter her. She could feel it trickle down her thighs as he pulled out. Before rolling onto his side, he brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Who are you?" he asked. The damp sweat stuck his hair to his forehead. He looked nothing like the Draco Malfoy she knew.

Wanting to avoid that conversation, Hermione pretended to be too sleepy to answer. "Mhmm," she sighed. "Go to sleep." She closed her eyes, and slowed her breathing in an effort to appear asleep. A few moments later, Hermione felt the bed shift as he rolled over. 

* * *

Hermione listened to his breathing pattern slow until he fell asleep. He lay beside her facing the opposite tent wall. For several hours, she lay next to him in silence as she tried to process what had happened.

The plan had been successful. She seduced a (very willing) wizard without revealing her identity. There would be no news articles of wizards bragging that they had slept with Hermione Granger. The experience was personal, and enjoyable; but, somehow, that was also the problem. 

_She fucked her enemy, and liked it._

Unable to to discern who was behind the masks, she had chosen Draco Malfoy. He had been accommodating, considerate, and very sweet, but that was besides the point! He hated her in real life!

There is no point fretting about it now, Hermione thought. She knew he enjoyed it as much as she had. If he ever found out, she could throw that in his face.

She glanced over his shoulder. His mask had shifted again. It revealed nearly half of his face. Seeing his face made Hermione realize that she needed to get out of there. He would wake in a few hours and start asking questions. Hermione quietly slid out of the bed, and nonverbally summoned her clothing. It shot into her outstretched arms, and she frantically dressed in fear that he would awake. Fortunately, he had not. Hermione looked at him one last time. He was asleep, naked on the bed. The sheets were rumpled around him, and his mask was partially off his face. He shifted and turned over to the spot which she formerly laid. Finding nothing, his hand felt around the bed searching for her. Realizing her time was up, Hermione fled the tent.

She found Luna almost immediately. Luna's yellow robes were difficult to miss. She smiled when she saw Hermione. "All finished?" she asked. 

Hermione's flushed cheeks and unruly hair were a dead give away that, _that_ had been the case. "Y—yes. I should leave now though. I don't want him to look for me." 

Luna nodded. "Okay. Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to hang out here for a little bit. I'd like to watch the sunrise."

"What about the portkey?" Hermione asked. 

"You can have it," Luna told her. "We—" she gestured to her new friends, "are going to walk down to the village for breakfast when this is over, and I can floo back."

Hermione nodded. "Okay, thanks. I'll see you when you get back?" 

Luna smiled. "Of course! We'll make plans." 

* * *

Everything felt like a ridiculous dream until Hermione stood in her shower hours later. Letting the water pour down her back, Hermione remembered what she had done and _whom_ she had done. When she returned home, the only thing she could do was crawl into bed. Now that she was rested and had wasted most of the morning, she had to face reality. She didn't regret her actions. It just seemed like a joke. Of all the people to sleep with, it would be Malfoy. 

When she stared at her reflection as she slipped into her robes, but she couldn't discern any physical difference. 

A  _woosh!_ from the floo alerted Hermione as she finished dressing. 

"Hermione?" A voice called. She recognized that voice. It was Parvati. 

"Just a minute!" Hermione called as she screwed in her earring backs. 

When she walked in the living room, Hermione found Parvati standing on the balcony ledge watching the muggles below.

"So what do you think?" Hermione asked.

Parvati stepped off the balcony and shut the door. "It looks really nice. A bit more austere than I expected, but I like it. Is it a muggle style?"

Hermione grinned. "Thanks! It is, and that means a lot coming from you. You were always so particular about decorating our Hogwarts dorm rooms."

Parvati laughed lightheartedly. "With good reason! Ours looked so much better than the rest of Gryffindor." 

"Hey do you want anything?" Hermione asked as she trudged over to her fridge. "Tea? Breakfast? I haven't eaten anything yet."

"Some tea would be nice." Parvati watched Hermione prepare the tea and warm a muffin. Hermione noticed her friend's unusual taciturnity. The tea was served in mismatched mugs that her family had picked up as souvenirs from holidays. Hermione's mug was from a winter holiday in southern Spain and Parvati's was purchased in Italy.  

"So what brings you over?" Hermione asked. 

Parvati shrugged. "I— I don't know. I wanted to see the flat, and thought this was a good a time as any to do so." Hermione could hear her friend's annoying, nervous tic. She tapped her foot incessantly. Clearly, something was bothering her. 

Hermione sat back in her chair and calmly sipped her tea. She waited for Parvati to stop the ridiculous small talk and vent about the real reason for her visit. 

"So—" Parvati began, still tapping her foot. "How was your Friday?" 

Oh boy. Images of what she had done flashed across her mind and her cheeks tinged pink— _again_.  "It was— ah—" Hermione had to choose her words carefully. "productive, surprising, but— uh not unpleasant." 

Parvati narrowed her eyes and set her tea down. "What is that supposed to mean? And why do you look guilty?"

Hermione sputtered. "Guilty!? I have  _never_ done _anything_ wrong!"

"Hmm— yeah, that's debatable." Parvati rolled her eyes. "So, spill. What happened?" 

"Spill? I'll spill when you spill!" Hermione retorted and speared her muffin with a fork. "Why don't you tell me the  _real_ reason you are here! And don't give me that bullshit that it's because you wanted to see the flat."

Parvati mouth hung open in an unflattering fashion for a moment. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied quietly. Parvati leaned back in her chair and didn't say anything more. 

The two sat in silence as Hermione ate. 

"Are you going to get a pet?" 

"Maybe." 

Parvati fidgeted in her chair and nervously tapped her foot, until she cracked.  "Okay, fine! I didn't come here to see the flat. I mean— I did, but not entirely. I wanted to know if it were too late to change my mind." 

"Oh!" Hermione's eyes widened. "No, not at all! I can add another extension charm for you."

"Would it be a problem?" Parvati asked.

"No! I guess I'm a bit surprised. What made you change your mind?" Hermione asked. 

Parvati covered her face with her hands. "I've complained a lot about Hector's family, but I just can't take it!" she vented. "Padma has Hector's family staying in our home until the wedding. It's too much! It's too close! And don't even get me started on his creepy cousin—" Parvati trailed off and averted her eyes. 

"What about his cousin?" Hermione asked. 

Parvati appeared as if she were debating whether to tell her. Taking a deep breath, she began to explain. "So his cousin's name is Ivan. He was at the engagement party. Hermione, I'm telling you, he gives me the creeps!  For some reason, he has decided to stay with us until the wedding even though it's not necessary! He moved in this past week. He sleeps in the room next to mine, and he shares my bathroom. Here's the thing, I always  _alohomora_ my bathroom door, but since he has moved in, he has walked in on me twice as I was showering! Of course he apologized, and said it was an accident, but I know it wasn't. He'd have to undo my charm to even jiggle the doorknob."

Oh Parvati—" Hermione began.

"That's not all!" Parvati interjected. "He's been using my soap! I can tell, because more than half of what I normally use is gone!

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Ew! You don't think he is— you know?"

"I DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT THAT!" Parvati screeched. "Oh Merlin and Morgana! And here's the tipping point: Last night, we were all gathered for a family dinner. We were mostly in the kitchen, and it was a bit cramped with everybody in the one room. I was carrying the curry to the table, and that's when I feel it. I feel his hand on my arse! It was not an accidental swipe because the kitchen was crowded. It stayed there for several seconds and then he squeezed it!"

"Why are you the one who has to leave when he is the one groping you?" Hermione exclaimed in outrage. 

"No one noticed anything because everyone was busy talking—" 

"Did you say anything? What did you tell him?" Hermione asked. 

"Nothing! I just— sort of— froze? Hermione, don't give me that look! I don't have experience in these sort of situations! I didn't know what to do! I just wanted to get the curry to the table and leave."

"You need to tell Hector what his cousin did, and tell your parents to kick him out of their house." 

"I know, but for now, I need a place to stay. So is it settled? Can I stay with you?" 

"Of course! Add all the extension charms you want. Do you need help moving in your stuff?" Hermione asked. 

"Oh! No, I'm fine." Parvati opened her purse and pulled out what appeared to be a makeup bag. She pulled each item out and set them on the floor. With a flick of her wand and a muttered incantation, the items enlarged to their real size. Hermione saw that it was Parvati's furniture and already-packed boxes. 

"Well, make yourself right at home," Hermione told her dryly. 

* * *

Parvati wasted no time in unpacking. By Saturday evening, the extension charms were in place, her room was decorated, and it looked as if she had always been there.

Hermione re-adjusted the wards to accommodate Parvati, and had an extra copy of her muggle keys made.

"I'm exhausted," Parvati announced from the couch. She was finally finished unpacking and decorating, and was now relaxing in her pajamas.

"Me too," Hermione replied. "I didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh! You never told me what you did. If I had to spill, so do you." She sat up, and patted the spot next to her for Hermione to sit. Sinking into the couch cushions, Hermione began to laugh. "You're never going to believe me. It sounds ridiculous!"

"Try me!" Parvati insisted.

Hermione sighed. "Alright. I went to the Mid Summer Festival with Luna."

Parvati's eyes widened. "Really? That is probably the last thing I expected you to say. How was it?" 

"It was— interesting." Hermione replied cryptically. 

"I've never been. What does one do there?" Parvati prodded. 

"It's basically one big high: magical and herbal with a lot of drinking in between, and some sex." 

Parvati shot her a scandalous look. "Okay. What did _you_  and Luna do there?" 

"Luna made some new friends whom with she had a lot in common. Weed tends to bring people together."

Parvati hummed in agreement. "Somehow that makes a lot of sense. And you?"

"I— uh— I slept with Draco Malfoy."

Parvati jaw dropped, and she had one of those what-are-words moments."You—how—why— Huh? Are you sure you weren't high?"

Hermione laughed. "Positive. In my defense, I didn't actually know it was him until the last minute, and by that time, why bother backing out? He's quite good, although, I don't have much experience to compare him to. Everyone wears masks, and when his shifted, I recognized him."  

"Did he know it was you?" Parvati asked once she was able to form words. 

Hermione shook her head. "No. My mask was charmed to stay in place. He's really a completely different person when he isn't speaking to us. I thought he was nasty to everyone, but I guess not. It makes you realize that he's a human being who actually feels something." 

"Wow," Parvati exclaimed. "I can't believe it. You see, this is the kind of juicy news you tell someone immediately! Don't wait until the end of the day when I'm tired for you to tell me this story! Oh well, it doesn't matter. Start from the beginning, and leave  _nothing_ out," she ordered.

Hermione laughed. "Alright, but I want to fix some hot chocolate first." 

"Hurry up!" Parvati demanded. "And make me a cup!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know this was probably a long anticipated chapter. Fourteen chapters and minimum contact is tough, I know. I don't know if you can tell, but this is my first time writing such a smutty scene. Constructive criticism is welcomed. I enjoy hearing your comments, and it is motivating. Thank you for reading!


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